Children of Circumstance
by geo3
Summary: A story about Anakin, his love and his path. First story in the Anakin's Saga series.
1. Default Chapter

CHILDREN OF CIRCUMSTANCE To be elated at success And disappointed at failure 

**Is to be the child of circumstances.**

**How can such a one be called**

**The master of himself?**

- - - Ancient Chinese Philosopher 

_Author's note:  This story takes place entirely within AOTC, beginning after the Battle of Geonosis and ending with Anakin Skywalker's marriage to Padmé Amidala. It fills in the gaps left by the film, and came about because I had a lot of unanswered questions. It follows on from two prior stories:_

**The Hour of Souls**

**Step into My Parlor **

_The usual disclaimers apply. Everything Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and Co. I'm just a storyteller._

**Chapter 1. Departures**

There is an old expression that describes joy as "the soul taking wings." 

When the soul flies, so do the feet.

Anakin Skywalker leaped off the lift at the far end of the serpentine corridor in the Senate office building and sprinted toward his next assignment, which he believed involved another cozy, private journey to a jewel-like planet near the Outer Rim with the woman who was the center of his universe.

The last thing he expected when he arrived at the Naboo Delegation's suite of offices was a crowd of people. The babble of voices flowed all the way down the curving hallway to the bank of lifts. It sounded as though he was hurrying toward the waiting room of the Sector Three Transport Station.

He slowed down in time to avoid getting slammed by one of the heavy double anteroom doors when it was abruptly flung open inches in front of his nose.

"Oof, sorry." A burly figure in the dress uniform of Naboo's security forces shot out of the noisy anteroom and belted down the corridor in the other direction. Anakin cautiously peered inside.

The room was a riot of color and noise. In one corner he recognized Captain Typho, also in uniform, in a huddle with three security guards. A vividly dressed group of humans had gathered in the center of the room, talking animatedly and periodically glancing toward the closed door of the inner office. Six more people lounged on the grand couches in the alcove, surrounded by assorted luggage. Everyone seemed to be talking non-stop.

As soon as Anakin stepped into the room all of the conversations died down.

The Jedi effect. Without conscious shielding the very presence of a Jedi created movement in the Force that even non-Force sensitive people could perceive on some level. It usually caused them to stop talking or to slow down or stop momentarily, so the Jedi were in the habit of shielding themselves whenever they were out in public. Thinking he was going to meet Padmé alone Anakin hadn't even thought to shield himself – even after he heard the voices. What was he thinking?  It was a mistake. He couldn't afford to make mistakes now that he was truly on his own. 

The conversations quickly returned to their normal levels.

Captain Typho's attention snapped to the door as soon as Anakin's presence announced itself so dramatically. When he saw the Jedi, he waved him over.

"Skywalker." Typho generally deferred to Jedi Knights, but as far as he was concerned, this one was still a learner and therefore under his own command if his Jedi Master was not there. He treated him accordingly. "Wait over there until I finish this briefing."

Anakin nodded and withdrew to a polite distance. He took up a position with his back to the wall where he could survey the room and waited, picking up snatches of conversation from around the large space.

It seemed that Padmé was not the only one returning to Naboo on this trip. The people with the luggage appeared to be administrative staff on their way home. Typho was outlining security procedures for a Royal Yacht.

Anakin began to wonder what he was doing here. There was no place he would rather be than by Padmé's side, but she had a full security complement already. Why had Chancellor Palpatine insisted that Anakin make this journey?

He turned his attention to the glittering group in the center of the room. A delegation of some kind. Gossiping. Something about an alliance. Then more small talk. They all knew one another well. He couldn't decide where they came from. 

His attention swung to the door of the inner office like a compass needle returning to true North. With much greater care than he had used to enter the room he sent his awareness into the office.

Padmé was there. He knew her Force signature as well as he knew Obi-Wan's - no. He stopped the thought cold. He would not think about his Master now. He continued to probe the inner office. He sensed three others in the office with her. The discussion, whatever it was, was intense. He could feel her anxiety flare, and then subside again. He wondered what the conversation was about.

Light, feminine laughter came from the hallway, and the doors opened once again to admit three petite, dark-haired women in glowing silk gowns. Handmaidens. The allure of sirens and armed to the teeth. He'd know them anywhere because they all reminded him wonderfully and temptingly of - wait, what was this? 

A little girl with dark glossy hair bounced into the room behind them. She was dressed exactly like the handmaidens and ran to one of them, pulling her sleeve for attention. Handmaiden-in-training? He had never seen a young one among them before. He watched them with interest while adding their numbers to his mental tally of the existing security complement.

He really didn't know why they needed him.

As the woman bent down to the child her hood fell open and Anakin recognized Sabé. They saw each other at the same time, and Sabé gave him a knowing wink. Then she whispered something to the child and the two of them came to greet the young Jedi.

"My, my," grinned Sabé. "A real Jedi. To what do we owe the honor?"

"I'm beginning to wonder that myself," said Anakin. He looked at the child. "Who is this?"

Sabé dropped her voice. "Cordé's niece. Her parents also died recently. Padmé has taken her in."

The little girl continued to stare at Anakin with undisguised interest.

"Balé," Sabé said in exactly the same tone that Obi-Wan had always used when trying to use a social situation to give a lesson in manners, "this is Anakin Skywalker. He is a Jedi…" she glanced at him. He shook his head. Not yet a Knight. His chest tightened. Probably never a Knight, after this. 

Sabé finished lamely, "He is a Jedi."

"Hello," Balé said. "What's a Jedi?"

The tightness in Anakin's chest started to rise into his throat. Good question. An even better question was, what kind of a Jedi was he?  Struggling for something to tell the child he finally said, "A kind of soldier, I guess."

She frowned. "Why do you wear ugly clothes?"

Anakin kept a straight face. "They won't let me wear anything else."

The child's eyes widened. Clearly she had never heard of such at thing.

Before they could continue their exploration of Anakin's unhappy state in the world the doors of the inner office finally opened and a wave of people turned toward it as if they had been waiting for this moment. 

The room quieted as a man Anakin recognized as the Foreign Minister of the Naboo emerged, followed by a foreign dignitary who was dressed like the chattering group. Behind him came Padmé and a tall, graceful-looking man who seemed stuck to her like glue, holding her elbow protectively. He was dressed to rival the rising sun and was not, Anakin surmised, from Naboo. The chattering group broke into applause as the couple appeared in the doorway.

Anakin felt a very un-Jedi surge of longing and possessiveness as he watched the group exchange formalities. He locked his entire awareness onto Padmé and she looked up to find him. As their eyes met he sensed not only rising anxiety but also panic from her. Definitely not the reaction he had hoped for. He watched her whisper something in the man's ear – he sensed urgency – the man shook his head – resistance – then more urgency from Padmé. Finally the man seemed to agree, but he wasn't happy about it. 

Anakin watched steadily as the delegation took its leave. Despite her inner disquiet Padmé managed to look serene. He could sense the effort it was costing her. The tall delegate was the last to leave. He bowed deeply to Padmé and kissed her hand. 

Anakin imagined himself knocking the hand-kisser across the room and out the door with a single good Force-enhanced shove. 

With the departure of the delegation Captain Typho quickly organized the remaining passengers and security personnel. While he was running security checks on the porters who came to collect the luggage and the handmaidens filed out into the corridor together with the administrative staff, Anakin finally sauntered over to Padmé to make his presence officially known. She broke into a smile and came toward him, hands outstretched to take his own.

"Anakin! I'm so happy to see you again!" Her eyes said a great deal more than that. They were full of longing and distress. To Anakin, just seeing her felt like coming home. He yearned to strike down whatever enemy was making her unhappy.

He felt the tremor when her hands met his and she realized he was wearing gloves. He had taken to wearing them all the time lately. It helped him to forget the awkwardness of his mechanical hand.

"I'm happy to be of service, My Lady," he said, bowing and making sure that she dropped his hands after an appropriate interval. Typho was standing right behind him. For the Captain's benefit he continued, "Although I'm not sure what contribution I can make to your security force. Captain Typho has everything well in hand."

"I just feel better if you're along," Padmé said. There was a spot of pink on each cheek.

He heard Typho make a kind of strangled snorting noise right behind him.

"It's time to go, My Lady," the Captain said, surveying the room. They were the last people in it. "If you will go with the Handmaidens, Skywalker and I will take up the rear."

Padmé hesitated, then nodded and reluctantly turned away from him. It took some effort for Anakin to restrain himself from insisting on going with her. He wondered whether the entire journey would be like this. Two days of being right next to her but unable to speak to her or touch her would probably be as bad as the month he had just spent without seeing her at all. 

Typho fell into step with Anakin as they wended their way through the seemingly endless corridors of the Senate building. The shuttles were waiting on the roof port.

"We've got a total of twenty-eight passengers this time plus security complement," he said, filling the Jedi in on the details of the trip. "The Queen sent her own yacht." He looked speculatively at his young companion as if to say, _what are you doing here? I didn't request your assistance. _"I think we have security pretty well covered."

Anakin felt a need to establish a position for himself. A bit stiffly he said,  "The request for my presence came from the Chancellor, I believe."

Typho snorted again. "I don't know why he thinks we can't handle it. We're not going through any embattled sectors, and anyway, we're scheduled to pick up a fighter escort. I don't really know what you're needed for. No offense."

"None taken." Anakin thought some more. He had the same questions, of course. 

"The think-twice factor," he suggested.

"Come again?" Typho was puzzled.

"You make it known that there is a Jedi presence on the transport and people will think twice before attacking it."

Another snorting noise. Strangled-sounding. Anakin seemed to bring it out in him. "That may work with pirates and in local disputes, but this is war. You know. Long distances? Heavy weapons?  One Jedi more or less won't make much difference. No offense."

Privately, Anakin agreed, although he also thought that under those circumstances the Captain's security team wouldn't make much difference either. "You're in command, Captain," he said. "You decide how I can best be of service."

There was a heavy silence that lasted a few strides. 

"You can keep away from the Senator."

Anakin stopped walking. Typho stopped as well and turned to face him.

"You had better explain what you mean, Captain," Anakin said in a very even and carefully modulated voice.

"I don't know what you're playing at, but the last time she was under your so-called 'protection' the pair of you left Naboo and she ended up in the middle of the first battle of the Galactic War. You want to explain that to me?  Because I haven't had it explained to me properly yet."

Anakin suddenly felt very alone. Wistfully he remembered the comfort of being a small Padawan standing by the side of his Master, who always knew just the right thing to do and say. But that was over, probably forever. He wanted to do things his own way, didn't he?  Well, here was his chance. _Still_, he found himself thinking, _what would Obi-Wan do?_

Obi-Wan would deal with the man sympathetically and diplomatically.

"You are absolutely right, Captain. In your position I would feel the same. It was a bad situation that got out of hand. The only thing I have to say in my defense is that the Senator will NOT take orders. Certainly not from me. I had the choice of letting her go alone or going with her." 

He omitted the rest of the story.

It worked. Typho subsided a bit and even displayed a kind of twist to his mouth that might have been the beginning of a grin. "Now, that I believe." They started walking again.

Then Typho looked slyly at the young man who was striding beside him down the long shadow-lit corridor. Apparently he couldn't resist the opportunity to bait a Jedi. "Looks like this is going to be an easy trip for you. Nothing to do but play games with the Handmaidens."

So much for Obi-Wan's diplomatic approach.

"It's comforting to know that your security arrangements are so effective as to render Jedi assistance completely unnecessary," Anakin retorted.

Captain Typho didn't miss a beat.

"She won't have time for you, you know. She'll be busy with her guests. That delegation from D'lai you saw back in the office?  They are coming with us. They're also providing the fighter escort."

The corridor finally came to an end and they entered the waiting lift. Anakin replayed the scene in the office in his mind and began to get a very bad feeling about it. "Who are they?" he asked, neutrally enough.

"The bridegroom and his entourage. Our job is to baby-sit them back to Naboo where they're going to announce Senator Amidala's marriage to that tall fellow. Wolan, his name is. Noble or something."

Captain Typho noticed with satisfaction that Anakin was silent all the way to the docking platform. _That'll teach the boy his place_, he thought. The Captain was not generally an unforgiving man, but he took Padmé Amidala's safety personally. This Jedi Padawan-learner -whatever he was – was trouble. Even Master Kenobi had thought so. There was no way he would let the boy endanger the Senator again.

_She will not marry him_, Anakin vowed silently, striding toward the shuttle with his cloak snapping behind him in the wind that sliced across the top of the building. He still didn't understand the Chancellor's motivations for sending him here, but he no longer cared. Anakin had his own reasons and that was enough for him.


	2. Chapter 2 Impasse

**Chapter 2. Impasse**

Obi-Wan Kenobi fell out of an uncharacteristically deep sleep as though he had been thrown off a cliff.

Something was terribly wrong.

Anakin. Something had happened to Anakin.

He jumped up and strove to regain his focus, reaching out in his mind for his constant companion of ten years. His Padawan.

Anakin was gone.

_Think._

Anakin had been sent on assignment to Naboo with Senator Amidala. Again. That was in order. That was where he was supposed to be.

But no. Anakin was truly gone. The link between them – the telepathic link between Master and Padawan – was no longer there. Obi-Wan closed his eyes as he probed the place that Anakin had filled. It was a painful gouge in his awareness. 

_He has left me. He cut our bond and he has left me._

Obi-Wan fumbled for his console and checked, not very optimistically, to see whether he could find Anakin's transponder signal.

Of course not.

_Maybe something has happened to him. Maybe he is hurt, or dead. He wouldn't just cut me off like that. He would not give up everything he has worked for. That we have worked for. He wouldn't abandon the Order._

Obi-Wan calmed himself and stretched out with his feelings with a somewhat un-Knightly sense of urgency. His awareness surged through the quarters they shared in the Jedi temple, finding traces of Anakin everywhere like the shifting and thinning pictures in clouds. He searched more deeply. He found wisps of sadness and regret. There were clumps of determination and tendrils of guile. And love. And loneliness. And very clearly, he found intent.

Anakin was gone, and he had deliberately separated himself from his Master.

Stunned, Obi-Wan searched within himself to understand why.

* * * * * 

The Queen's Yacht was unlike any other ship in Naboo's otherwise modest fleet. Designed for protocol, diplomacy and entertaining it was larger and more luxurious than the other starships and provided many of the amenities of palace life. Although travel at light speed made short work of most journeys, the Yacht provided the opportunity for longer, slower journeys, for off-planet diplomatic encounters and for high-level meetings while in transit. It contained luxurious staterooms and servant's quarters, a galley and dining salon, two conference rooms, and even an elegant Salon where guests could meet and mingle. The centerpiece of the Salon was a large viewing port – a great luxury, but one that befitted the overall style and purpose of the vessel.

The entire complement of passengers had been quickly and efficiently settled in their quarters. The Senator and her handmaidens occupied the Queen's suite of staterooms on the starboard side of the Salon. The D'laian delegation had similar accommodation to port. Security personnel, staff and crew were housed in a separate section of cabins aft of the dining salon and conference rooms. The larger of the two conference rooms was immediately in use as the two delegations faced off on another round of negotiations before the ship had even lifted off. 

As a luxury liner with minimal armament and no fighters of its own, an escort wing to discourage piracy and assure the safety of its important passengers generally accompanied the yacht. On this journey it had been agreed that the ship would travel unaccompanied from Coruscant to the outskirts of the D'laian system. There a complement of D'laian fighters would rendezvous with the Naboo ship and provide a largely ceremonial escort to Naboo, where the finalized treaty would be announced.

That didn't leave much time to finalize the treaty. That was a problem because the Naboo and the D'laians were at complete disagreement on several points, not the least of which was the D'laian's insistence that the agreement be sealed in the method common to their own culture – through a marriage between members of the ruling elite. Since Naboo's aristocratic culture was shot through with the annoying economic and social egalitarianism of democracy – an _elected _Queen with a limited term; had one ever heard of such a thing? – the D'laians had decided that Senator Amidala would fit their requirements for a suitable partner of equivalent social and economic value. At least she had formerly held the title of Queen, and even had some small reputation as a warrior.

It was nothing personal. D'laian law contained very interesting provisions for ownership of and disposal of assets between partners joined in this way. No wonder the entire planet of D'lai was in the hands of a relatively small ruling class. 

The D'laian's were openly offended at the unwillingness of the Naboo to concede on this point. They had gone out of their way to select a prime partner for the Naboo woman. Wolan was a member in good standing of one of the finest houses, and had an outstanding reputation as a warrior – surely the most important criterion of all. He was young enough to be appealing, if the Naboo were silly enough to care about that sort of thing when it came to forming alliances. Surely there could be no objections. All that remained was for the planetary government to allocate to the Senator a suitable dowry, and the treaty could be completed. 

The Naboo Foreign Minister thought that in his entire thirty – year career in the Foreign Service, including a long stint as Senator, he had never encountered people as arrogant and unyielding the D'laians. As chief negotiator on this mission he had the onerous task of leading this distasteful treaty negotiation. He found the assignment deeply unpleasant, not least because the Senator herself had insisted on being part of every minute of every meeting. It was difficult enough to deal with the matter-of-factness with which the D'laians bought and sold individual lives and careers without having to sit next to the woman whose fate was being so forcefully and insistently bartered.

Privately, he felt sorry for her. No one on Naboo had ever intended for the Senator to actually go through with the arrangement once the D'laians had added the marriage condition onto the package on the table. They thought it was simply another negotiating point. But over the last few days he had watched the D'laians concede point after point without ever moving on this one. It had now become the make-or-break condition of the treaty, and no one was budging. That had placed the young Senator squarely into the position of either conceding to the untenable arrangement at great personal cost, or refusing and thereby risking armed conflict with the D'laians, who were a formidable military power in the sector. 

The Foreign Minister did not doubt for a moment that the D'laian's would turn on Naboo if crossed. With the Galaxy at war and attention turned elsewhere, they knew they could get away with it. The small planet contained many resources coveted by the Warrior race, to be sure. But at this point the Foreign Minister was convinced that the D'laian's code of honor alone was enough to make them regard Naboo as an enemy simply because their demands had not been met.

_Barbarians_, he thought bitterly. _Glittering, self-important, unyielding barbarians._ Impulsively and uncharacteristically he reached over to pat the young Senator's hand. He felt powerless to help her.

* * * * *

Padmé was running out of ideas. She fervently wanted to tell the Queen to marry the man herself. But it was also completely outside of Padmé Amidala's character to inflict a burden on someone else that she would not carry herself. Hour after hour for days she had come up with alternate options. The D'laians stood firm on the point of the marriage. 

This morning in her office she had barely been able to prevent that Wolan person from announcing the marriage on the spot, even without her formal concession. For him it was as good as done, and he saw no reason to listen to any more objections from her. 

Here on the ship, coming closer and closer to Naboo, she was as far away from a solution as before. When she felt the foreign minister's hand on hers she realized with a staggering sense of loneliness that he had given up. The choice was hers:  an abomination of a marriage or endangering the planet she had served unquestioningly all her life.

Padmé thought back ten years to another attempt to subjugate Naboo. Chancellor Valorum had responded to the Trade Federation's blockade by sending Jedi negotiators. There were only two – a Master and a Padawan. Their modest presence had been enough to instill fear in the Trade Federation, but that fear had only served to make the enemy more dangerous.

She allowed herself to think a little bit about Anakin – at least about his presence on this ship. Clearly the Chancellor had arranged it. But why?  There had been no mission briefing. His Master was not with him. He was on his own. He was not even a Knight. Would his presence have an effect on the negotiations simply because he was Jedi?  

Suddenly Padmé surprised herself and everyone else in the conference room by standing up and demanding a recess in the meeting. The impulse came before the rational thought. Without waiting for an answer, she fled the conference room and walked unerringly toward the Salon, telling herself only that she needed to think. She did not admit to herself that she was really looking for Anakin, as though he held the answer to all of her questions. As though he could save her.

* * * * *

Anakin stood alone before the large viewing port in the Salon like a dark statue silhouetted against the vastness of deep space. He was so still and his outline against the starry illumination was so faint that an idle passenger wandering into the salon might not even notice him at first. The Salon was empty except for a small group of Naboo who sat together at the other end of the spacious room, chatting and having drinks. They had long since forgotten the young Jedi's presence, if they had ever even noticed it to begin with. He had been standing there for a long time.

Anakin had spent the first few hours on board thoroughly familiarizing himself with the ship and the people aboard. He had given considerable attention to learning about the D'laians. What he had learned so far did not give him comfort. Now he had nothing to do but wait. 

Idleness was his darkest enemy. He could cope with anything but a lack of purpose. Meditation was an acceptable and useful kind of stillness as far as he was concerned but this business of having nothing to do and nowhere to go was a rarefied form of torture. It meant that his mind was not fully occupied with a task, and that allowed room for the thoughts that he most wanted to avoid. The thoughts that lurked inside him like demons.

He hated how much he missed Obi-Wan.

He hated feeling guilty for having severed his telepathic bond with his Master this morning when he left and not even having said goodbye properly. 

He hated the deepening realization that their bond had been so much more than a way for his Master to check on his whereabouts.

He hated feeling lost and lonely. It was like being orphaned again, only this time it was his own doing. All because his passion for Padmé had become the bright center of his universe, blinding him to all the other parts of his life.

He also found that he hated having – well, no proper status. As a Jedi Knight he would have arrived here with a clear mission and a full background briefing. He would have been present at all meetings. His advice would have been asked for and respected and he would have been given the authority to make decisions.

Instead all that Anakin had going for him was a grudging agreement that he could tag along if he stayed out of the way. 

Padmé was unavailable. Meetings between the D'laian and Nubian delegations had continued as soon as the Star Cruiser lifted off. He had not seen her once since coming on board, and there was no way to know whether he would even get the opportunity.

Typho had been right. Anakin hated that, too.

Misery began to stalk him like a shadow.

_You are now master of yourself, _he reminded himself. _You can decide your own actions from now on. You are free._

The bittersweet demon thoughts suggested that freedom might always be lonely.

Anakin looked inside himself with the intention of strangling the demon voices and found instead his own bright, shining center. Not loneliness. Padmé. He felt her presence. He turned around and she was there. Misery lost its foothold and the voices stilled.

* * * * * 

After the abrupt departure of that Senator woman, Wolan decided to follow her rather than trying to gain a strategic advantage with the old man during her absence. He had a sneaking feeling that she was up to something. He had already made up his mind not to allow her to confer with her security team or the other passengers, and now he wanted to know where she was going and why. He signaled to the three young warriors who were his constant companions, bowed to the people who still remained seated around the large conference table and followed he at a discrete distance. Action was better than that stupid talking any day.

She didn't get far. He followed her into the Salon, lengthening his stride so he entered the room only a few paces behind her. He saw her walk unhesitatingly across the room toward the viewing port. 

And then he saw the Jedi. 

Battle-rage rose in him like heat. She had no business inviting the Jedi here. It was none of their concern what kind of treaty was made with Naboo. The D'laians never allowed those sneaking sorcerers to get involved in their affairs. 

"Senator Amidala!" Wolan's voice cut across the quiet room like a blaster bolt.

The woman stopped momentarily as though she had been struck, then continued to walk forward without turning until she stood at the Jedi's side. Only then did she turn her gaze toward him.

"Senator, I must insist that you return to the negotiating table." Wolan did not look at her as he spoke. His eyes were locked on the hated Jedi. "Unless, of course, you wish to concede on all points."

"I will return when I have finished speaking with Jedi Skywalker," she said coldly. "You may wait for me in the conference room."

No woman had the right to speak to a D'laian warrior in that way.

"Our negotiations are not a matter for the Chancellor and his lapdogs," he snarled. "Our business must remain between us."

The Jedi had not moved.

"I will not ask you again, D'ai Wolan," said the insufferable woman,  "You must do me the courtesy of returning to your delegation until I have completed my business here. You are a guest on my ship." 

When she put it that way, Wolan had to back down. For now. But he would not forget this insult. Grudgingly he turned on his heel and left the Salon without so much as a bow, and with his minions tagging along behind.

If the D'laian warrior had known more about the silent Jedi at the Senator's side he would perhaps not have spoken with such confidence. He did not know how little stood between him and his immediate demise.

* * * * *

Anakin had listened to the entire exchange with an ice-cold heart. 

The other passengers in the Salon were now staring at Anakin and Padmé with undisguised fascination. They could no longer speak privately. But Anakin could sense everything that was in her heart and on her mind, and she in turn gained strength from his mere presence. At this moment his fierce protectiveness felt like the only safe place in the world.

Padmé turned her back on the spectators and gazed unseeingly out the viewing port. Anakin turned with her.

"I have to go back in," she whispered, "but I need to see you. I will send Sabé when I can."

"Let me help you," he said quietly. "You know that I will do anything you ask. Anything." 

"The D'laians seem to believe I am plotting against them with you."

"Then," Anakin said, with grim satisfaction, "let them continue to think so."

Padmé remained standing next to him as long as she dared. Somehow it gave her strength. Then she whispered, "I have to go back."

"You don't have to give in to them," Anakin said with a hard edge in his voice. "There is always another way."

"I wish that were true."

Anakin could think of a number of ways to make it true, but kept them to himself. 

"I will not leave you," he promised.

Padmé did not know how he could be of help, but she felt comforted. Without a backward glance, she left him and returned to her duty with a quieter heart.

Anakin went back to his window.


	3. Chapter 3 Changes

**Chapter 3. Changes**

At the end of that grueling day Padmé collapsed into the relative safety of her stateroom on the Queen's Yacht. One more minute, one more meeting, one more miserable conversation and she would have exploded.

"Make sure that door is double-locked," she demanded. "Better yet, put a time lock on it. I don't want to come out again until this is all over." Sabé shook her head and made sure the door was secure.

Padmé collapsed onto the nearest chair and buried her face in her hands.

"Miss Padmé, are you all right?" Balé's worried face peered at her from behind a pile of luggage.

"Sabé hurried over and took the child gently by the shoulders. "Miss Padmé is very tired. Let's let her rest a bit."

"No," Padmé said, "It's all right. Come here, sweetheart." She held her arms out for the little girl, who happily ran into them and scrambled into her lap, dislodging a few exquisite pleats and tucks in the process.

Padmé couldn't have cared less about the dress. She wrapped her arms around the child and buried her face in her silky hair. It felt indescribably good to hold her warm little body. To feel gentle fingers stroking her cheek and then playing with the heavy necklace that had been bothering Padmé all day. She drank in the child's innocent love like a plant that had spent a season without water.

Impulsively she reached up and unfastened the annoying jewelry and fastened it around Bale's neck. "There," she said. "Now you're the Senator and I'm the Handmaiden."

The little girl squealed with delight and slid off Padmé's lap to go find a mirror.

Sabé looked at Padmé with that searching look that rarely missed anything.

Padmé looked back. "I wish," she said.

Balé admired herself in the necklace very much. Padmé continued to sag in her chair. Finally Sabé decided to take steps.

She retrieved the necklace. 

She sent the little girl to find Dormé and Vespé.

Then she pulled up an elaborately enameled packing case and sat down on it facing her mistress and friend. 

"It's getting out of hand, isn't it," she said matter-of-factly.

Padmé felt stinging tears of rage well up. "I have never been outmaneuvered as badly as this. Not even when I was Queen."

Sabé gathered Padmé's hands into her own, trying to pass along some kind of reassurance.

"Surely something can be done."

A couple of tears dropped. "Those arrogant, power-hungry, ignoble, strutting, self-important, arrogant…"

"You said that."

Padmé ignored her. "… narrow-minded, unyielding, spiritually void, culturally retarded, mercenary dandies have succeeded in boxing us into this unbelievable treaty before we could find a way out, and now they're besieging us."

"Well," Sabé said reasonably, "they are a warrior culture. That _is_ why we wanted to ally with them – they can provide protection for us in our Sector that we can't get any other way."

"Warriors?  Try imperialists." Padmé pulled her hands away from Sabé's and started to yank pins and fasteners out of her hair. "Imperialist barbarians." Pins and combs dropped onto the floor like rain. Sabé watched her mistress with mild astonishment. 

"They know we need them." The ever-practical Sabé had found the hairbrush and offered it before last pin came out. 

Padmé kept talking while she savagely brushed her hair. "We can't protect our planet or our ability to trade if this sector becomes embroiled in the War."

"No one can," Sabé reminded her. "That's the terror of war."

"True." The Senator was warming up to her speech while at the same time impatiently tearing off jewelry and dropping it on the floor with the hairpins. It made a fascinating spectacle. "But neither we nor the D'laians are planning to secede from the Republic. Neither are most of the other worlds in our sector." She waved the hairbrush. "If the worlds in our sector can just stay together and remain loyal to the Republic, we might not see the worst of it."

Her hair done, Padmé started viciously unbuttoning her long narrow sleeves, snapping off some of the tiny buttons in the process. Sabé sighed and stood up to help, then turned her mistress around so she could undo the complicated fastenings at the back of her heavy embroidered brocade dress. Padmé was still talking. "But what our dear friends the D'laians are trying to do amounts to annexing Naboo. With me as the hostage."

"Do you have something against your clothes?" Sabé asked, gently putting aside the exquisite garment that Padmé had flung onto the floor with a gesture that looked a lot like hostility.

"Yes." Freed of her heavy outer garments, Padmé had flung open a large trunk and was now rummaging in it wildly.

"What are you looking for?" Sabé gently pushed her mistress aside and lifted up the garments in the trunk one by one. She wished Dormé and Vespé would come soon. She needed to hold her own council of war.

"I want something plain. As plain and simple as you can get. No tucks, no ruffles, no decoration. No jewels." Her voice faded as she went into the fresher.

"How about a sack?" Sabé suggested, looking through the pile of jewel-like colors and complex textures.

"Perfect," said Padmé through the sound of running water.

Sabé sighed again. She seized on a plain pale blue garment and pulled it out of the case. It was filmy and translucent. A nightgown. No, that wouldn't do. She was starting to grumble as she dug to the bottom of the pile.

Her fingers found something smooth and dense. She grabbed and pulled, and came up with a plain white gown. It was almost unornamented, except for a line of artisan-quality embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. She suddenly remembered the garment – it was actually an under-dress for a quite magnificent tabard-and-skirt thing. Oh, well, it would have to do. 

"I found something," she called.

Padmé came out of the fresher without makeup of any kind. She had scrubbed her face clean and her hair hung down her back. She looked like a young girl.

Sabé handed her the simple white gown. Padmé frowned at it and picked unhappily at the embroidery. "It will have to do for now." She pulled it over her head. "I need something to wear over it. A cloak, maybe. But it has to be…"

"I know, I know." Sabé went to another large packing case. "It has to be plain." She began rummaging again. "Would you like to tell me what this is all about?"

Padmé found a soft leather belt with only a tiny bit of hand tooling and fastened it around her waist. "I realized something today," she said softly.

Sabé turned around, dragging a dark velvet cloak with her, and stopped short when she saw Padmé standing in the middle of the room. The unornamented gown flowed over her like water. Her face and hair shone in the soft light of the cabin. In her grave simplicity her being seemed many times brighter than all of the gleaming objects that surrounded her in the cases and on the floor.

"You look like a priestess," Sabé breathed.

* * * * *

Padmé's gaze turned inward as she allowed herself to remember the picture she had been carrying in her heart all day – the picture of a young Jedi standing quietly in a crowded room of flashy, heavily ornamented people. Demanding people. People who wanted and expected things from her. People who displayed their self-importance in their clothing and their manners and their words.

"I realized that everything I value – everything I love – everything that is important to me, and to the world, is on the inside." Padmé smiled at Sabé for the first time since she had stormed into the cabin. "To the D'laians, everything is exterior. Everything is show. They wear their wealth and their status in their clothing and their manners, and that is what they value in others." She looked ruefully around the room at her own precious belongings. "I fear they must believe they have found the perfect partners in us."

Sabé was still puzzled. "And so you are trying to make a point?  Or to discourage them by being something different?"

Padmé actually laughed. "No. Nothing could discourage those sons of the seventh pit. As far as they are concerned the battle is won and the village is ready to be sacked." She reached for the cloak that still trailed from Sabé's hand. It was heavy velvet, of course – a rich brown, the color of polished wood, with a pale lavender lining – but it was mercifully unornamented. She slipped it on. She looked up to find Sabé staring at her with a look that said she still didn't understand.

"I had the opportunity today to see an aspect of myself reflected in everything I saw around me. An aspect I didn't like." She looked around the room. "We'll have to replace most of these things. My days of dressing like – well, like a D'laian – are over."

Sabé was very confused. "Ours is a culture of artisans, My Lady," she said, somewhat stiffly. "Beauty is everything to us. This isn't bragging –" she looked around at all the lovingly crafted things that lay strewn around the room, " – this is an expression of our art. Of our way of looking at the world."

Padmé stepped over the gleaming bits and pieces on the floor and hugged her friend. "I know," she whispered. "I don't mean to reject or to criticize anything or anyone. But I don't want to wear my world on the outside any more. I want to carry it inside." She stepped back to see Sabé's face. There was still no understanding reflected in it. 

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Padmé said heavily. "If I'm going to be a sacrificial offering for my people, at least let me do it on my own terms."

"There must be a way out of all this," Sabé said longingly. "I don't want things to change."

Padmé was silent for a while, lost in her thoughts while she braided her hair into a heavy plait over her shoulder.

"Well," Sabé roused herself back to duty. "I had better take care of the mess you made here."

A tap on the stateroom door made both of them jump. 

"Surely not the D'laians." Padmé guessed that they would not announce their presence so gently.

Indeed Sabé opened the door to the welcome sight of her reinforcements. "I think she has finally snapped," she whispered to Dormé. The older woman took in the state of the room and the interesting attire of her mistress without comment. Young Vespé hung back shyly. Balé, on the other hand, danced into the room full of exciting news. 

"I found the Jedi again!" She announced with delight. "He's really nice. We played tumble sticks." 

"I'll bet he won," smiled Sabé, catching Dormé's eye. They both surreptitiously looked at their mistress, who was watching the child intently while fiddling with her plait.

"Not all the time." Balé leaned against Padmé's knee. "Did you know that he's an orphan, too?"

Padmé cleared her throat. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I did know that."

"He said I'm lucky to have you look to after me." She looked up at Padmé. "I think so, too." Padmé smiled and stroked the child's hair, reminding herself firmly that it did not do for a Senator of the Republic to be hopelessly jealous of a seven-year-old child. "What else did he say?" Every nerve in her body felt alive.

"He couldn't talk to me any more because the shiny man started talking to him." 

"The shiny man?" 

"You know, the really tall one. In the shiny clothes. Miss Padmé, why don't some people like Jedi?"

"I don't know, sweetheart." She looked meaningfully at Sabé, who had watched the exchange with deep interest. "But I would be very interested in finding out." She stood up and took the child's hand. "Let's let Vespé take you to the dining salon for some supper before bed."

Both girls went willingly enough. Vespé was the youngest and shyest of the Handmaidens, and had not been with Padmé as long as the other two. She was not yet a confidante.

As soon as they left Padmé turned to her co-conspirators. 

 Sabé was grinning from ear to ear. 

Dormé was methodically folding clothes and putting them away. "Why do I get the feeling," she said into a wardrobe, "That there is going to be trouble again?"

"As far as I'm concerned," Padmé said with asperity, "today's events have brought more trouble that I have ever imagined. It cannot possible get worse than this."

"You'd be surprised," said Dormé darkly while dropping a handful of jewelry into an ornate box. 

"Tell, tell," said Sabé, perching on the arm of the nearest chair. She accepted that wardrobe duty was part of her job, but everyone knew that her favorite thing in the world was palace intrigue. She was the best spy and covert operative that Padmé had ever seen. It was probably because she loved her work.

Dormé turned around and folded her arms, enjoying her rapt audience. 

"Apparently our D'laian friends do not think much of the Jedi in general. The word "sorcerer" came up in several conversations. They were asking why we saw fit to have a Jedi presence on board.

Padmé became thoughtful. In her experience the multicultural Jedi Order was widely respected, although there was some grumbling about undue influence and high-handed methods. She tried to think of delegations that had spoken against them in the Senate, and remembered a few. But the D'laians had not been among them.

"Then," Dormé went on, "it came up that this particular Jedi is known to you and is here by special request."

"Go on," Padmé urged. She was beginning to get the picture. The D'laians really were worried about a Jedi presence on the ship.

"Our resplendent friend, Wolan" – Dormé rolled the name around in her mouth as though she had found a bitter pip – "heard about the connection between you and the hated Jedi, and puffed up like a sinda-bird in mating season."

Sabé giggled. The image fit, down to the strut.

Padmé was thinking furiously. "If the D'laians are that nervous about a Jedi presence they might be planning something." She looked grim. "Some kind of treachery." She looked up. "Sabé, I need you to warn Captain Typho. I don't want to be seen speaking to him myself."

"I'm on it." Sabé slid off the chair. "I'll find out what's going on."

"Wait." Padmé took a deep breath. "I also need to see Anakin. Alone. In private. And without the D'laians knowing anything about it. Do you think you can manage that?"

"For how long?" Sabé asked sweetly.

Padmé looked her right in the eye. "All night."

There was a long, long pause. Sabé finally broke the silence. "I knew it!" she said with the deepest satisfaction. " I knew it!  Give me a couple of hours. I may have to set up a scenario, especially now that they're paying attention to his presence on the ship."

Dormé cleared her throat for attention and asked gravely, "Will My Lady be dining with her D'laian guests this evening?"

"Absolutely not," said Padmé with some horror. "No. I have retired for the night and will have supper in my stateroom."

"I thought so," said Dormé. "It's all arranged."

"Thank you," breathed Padmé, with the sincerest feelings of gratitude.

Then she turned to Sabé. "What are you waiting for?  Go!"

With an exaggerated bow, Sabé turned and skipped out of the room. 

Dormé in the meantime had succeeded in putting the room entirely to rights. "I'll put Balé to bed," she said. "Will you need anything else before I go?"

"No, thank you." Padmé smiled. Dormé didn't return the smile. She stared at her mistress speculatively, pointedly taking in her costume. "Do you," she said, slowly, emphasizing each word, "have the slightest idea what you are doing?"

Padmé raised her chin a little. "Taking risks. It is not the first time."

Dormé could not be deterred. "Do you honestly think this is the time to be playing games?"

"I am not playing at anything, Dormé, believe me. No matter how frivolous Sabé makes me sound. I am completely serious."

Dormé shook her head in disapproval. "May the Gods preserve us all," she muttered, and left the room without a backward glance.

After Dormé left Padmé wandered over to the computer console and half-heartedly began to search for yet more information about the D'laians. Perhaps she could find something she had not seen before – anything that would help her keep out of their clutches while still safeguarding Naboo's future. It seemed an impossible task.

Another part of her mind drifted down a different path. She tried to remember the last time she had taken as many risks in a single day. She thought of a few occasions. Somehow, Anakin had been present at each one of them.


	4. Chapter 4 Warnings

  


**Chapter 4. Warnings**

Tensions throughout the ship were high, made higher by the fact that all of the parties strove to maintain the appearance of trust and goodwill. Meetings continued with a veneer of civility. Nubians and D'laians greeted one another politely in corridors and in the Salon. 

Yet everyone was watching everyone else. 

The D'laians believed they had all the areas of concern covered. No one from the Naboo delegation could move without it being noted. They could not speak to one another without a D'laian joining in the conversation. The D'laians made their presence felt everywhere on the ship. They had only one problem.

The Jedi.

That was the one unknown factor in the plan – Jedi presence on this journey had not been announced, and indicated that the Naboo might not be quite as vulnerable as the D'laians had surmised. Jedi presence meant Senate attention, and that would not do at all. But the D'laian's objection to the Jedi went much deeper than that. To them the Jedi were magicians and sorcerers, the darkest and most evil of all enemies.

The D'laians outlawed sorcery and magic of any kind. Their culture was deeply materialistic, believing only in the knowledge they could gain through their observation and their senses. They trained their bodies and their minds to the limits of their physical prowess, but anything they could not manipulate themselves, see with their own eyes, or prove with their scientific laws was not tolerated. They feared what they could not control.

People accused of using magic were put to death on D'lai.

They knew of the Jedi, of course – who in the Galaxy did not?  But they avoided any contact with them. No Jedi had set foot on D'lai for hundreds of years. 

And now there was one on this ship, presumably using his evil powers on the Naboo. Wolan was certain that the Senator was under his influence; otherwise how could she continue to hold out against the inevitable?

Wolan made a particular effort to make certain that he always knew where the Jedi was. But it was a problem. Sometimes he seemed to simply disappear. And then he was suddenly there again. Quiet. In the background. But there. If Wolan were prone to admitting such things, he would have acknowledged that it made him nervous.

Somehow the Jedi had to be gotten rid of. His influence had to be ended.

* * * * *

As soon as the young Knight appeared before him Yoda knew why he was there.

"You are concerned about your Padawan," he observed gently.

"He is gone," Obi-Wan said simply.

"On assignment, your Padawan is, taking Senator Amidala back to Naboo. Has he done so?"

"Yes, Master Yoda. As far as I know he is carrying out that mission." He looked up and the ancient Master saw that his eyes reflected the pain in the deepest part of his being. "You know I had reservations about allowing him to take that assignment."

"Aware of your objections, the Council was."

Obi-Wan took a deep calming breath. "Anakin has severed his link with me."

Yoda nodded gravely. "Painful, this is. My heart is saddened for your loss."

"You don't seem surprised, Master."

"With a future as clouded as your Padawan's, unwise it is to have expectations."

 "Are you saying that I should just let him go?" Obi-Wan protested, shocked. "Without even trying to do something about it?" His voice rose a bit. "Is that the view of the Council?"

Yoda sent out a wave of love and peace to help support the young Knight, and said, "A Jedi does not do his duty because he is told to. Infused with the desire to serve, a Jedi's entire being is. He performs his duty out of the deepest, sincerest acceptance of his higher purpose."

"He is still young, Master Yoda. He still has much to learn. He can become a great Jedi, he just isn't ready for this kind of responsibility yet."

"Not ready?" Yoda repeated. "How will he know his own readiness if forever you hold him close?"

Realization dawned. "This is a test!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. "The Council is testing him!"

Yoda pressed his lips together, nodding. "A trial this is not. Prepare one can, for a trial. But a test of character comes unannounced at any time in a life. Tells us, it does, who we are."  With each of the last three words the Jedi Master banged the tiled floor with his stick. The sound echoed, and then the room returned to silence.

There was an unquiet silence. Yoda waited patiently.

"I would like to go to Naboo to find my Padawan, Master," Obi-Wan said finally.

"Hmph." The Jedi Master was not pleased. "What then will you do when found him, you have?"

"I need to speak with him, Master Yoda. I can't just let him go. I have to see what is in his heart."

The ancient Master looked intently at the floor, as though he had never seen it before.

"Blame yourself, you do."

Obi-Wan did not respond.

Yoda looked up again. "Ask this of you, I do. Think longer on this. Meditate. If then of the same mind are you, go to find your Padawan you may."

"I will do as you ask, Master Yoda. I promise I will not be rash."

The Ancient One nodded and waved the young Knight away with a heavy heart.

* * * * *

On his way back to the quarters he had shared with Anakin for almost ten years, Obi-Wan's thoughts returned to the emotional impressions Anakin had left behind in the small, spare rooms. The boy had only been allowed into the Jedi Order under protest and had been carefully scrutinized ever since. For the first time Obi-Wan found himself wondering what it must be like to live one's life under a kind of cloud, being constantly watched for signs of – what?  Unsuitability?  Inadequacy? Darkness? Anakin was not perfect by any means, but Obi-Wan did not presume to know anyone who was.

No wonder the boy yearned for love.

* * * * * 

Sabé was good, but she wasn't that good.

She hadn't gone far down the corridor that led from the Salon when a hand was clapped over her mouth and she found herself inside an adjoining room within the space of two heartbeats. It happened so fast she couldn't even struggle. Then she was released again just as quickly, and turned around to find herself looking straight up into two very blue eyes.

"You could have asked," she said. "I'm really very friendly, even when it comes to sorcerer scum."

Evidently Anakin was not in the mood for jokes. "Sorry," he said shortly, securing the door of the small conference room. "I'm not taking any chances." 

The glowlamps came on, illuminating a pretty room with a highly polished table. The walls were covered in tapestries depicting scenes from Theed. Sabé leaned against the table and regarded her captor with amusement. 

"You're just the person I was hoping to find. I have a message for you."

"Where is she?" His voice was very, very soft.

_Gods_, Sabé thought. _They both have it bad._

"You'll have to be patient a little longer. They are watching every move she makes."

"I know." Anakin scowled. "The D'laians are not to be trusted. They are afraid and they're hiding something."  His intensity filled up the small room. "She isn't safe."

 "Well, "Sabé said, "They are certainly afraid of you."

"It seems to me," he said, carefully,  "that their… discomfort… with my presence here might offer an way to encourage them to reveal their true motives."

Sabé gave him a hard look. 

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

"It's time I made my presence felt. They spend all their time watching me, anyway."

Sabé had been thinking along the same lines herself. She was tempted, but cautious. "The Senator won't approve of any actions that might damage the credibility of the negotiations."

"We are on the same side," Anakin reminded her.

Sabé looked at him thoughtfully. It seemed to her that he might be their last, best resource at this point, but she was concerned about his diplomatic skills. It was one thing to be a brilliant fighter and bodyguard, and quite another to manipulate a situation with subtlety and discretion.

"I ask you again, Anakin," Sabé persisted. "What do you intend to do?"

Anakin looked distinctly annoyed.

"A little provocation," he said with exaggerated patience. "Some goading. It shouldn't take much to make them overplay their hand."

 "Whatever takes place has to stay within the boundaries of Naboo's political and diplomatic needs. Nothing personal, do you hear me?  Our ideal outcome is to find a way out of this mess with the least amount of damage done."

"I am offering you my help," he said shortly. "As a courtesy."

There was a long silence while Sabé made up her mind. 

Something clearly needed to be done. And it sounded as though Anakin would take matters into his own hands with or without her approval. Better to work with him, she thought.

"All right," she said, "I suggest you meet me for dinner in the dining salon to raise your profile. All the best people will be there." She paused. "Except for our favorite Senator, who flatly refuses to lay eyes on the D'laians unless she absolutely has to."

"A wise choice," said Anakin, unlocking the conference room door.

"I have to see Captain Typho," Sabé said quickly, but I will join you as soon as I can."

"Invite him to join us," Anakin said with some irony, implying very clearly that he expected the Captain to disapprove.

Sabé laughed, and disappeared down the corridor.

* * * * *

Anakin felt himself bumping up against the outside boundaries of his patience. Why did he have to prove himself over and over again? He scowled at the D'laian soldier who suddenly happened to be lurking at the end of the corridor, as though it was all his fault, and then walked deliberately in the other direction. 

* * * * *

The dining salon was noisy and busy. Anakin kept his mental shielding in place as he entered the room and memorized its layout and occupants as he made his way leisurely to the heavily laden sideboard. The D'laian's chief negotiator was there with two others from the delegation but Wolan and his inevitable entourage had not yet arrived. 

Anakin suddenly realized that he was hungry – he couldn't remember when he had last eaten. He might as well take advantage of the opportunity. He helped himself sparingly to the simplest of the many elaborate dishes that were displayed, and then found a table in the corner furthest from the room's entrance. Seating himself so that he could survey the entire space, he began his meal.

It wasn't long before the gang of warriors announced their arrival with loud voices from the hallway. They swaggered into the dining salon and took quick note of all its occupants, just as Anakin had done. They spotted him right away but he didn't appear to be looking in their direction.

Of course they occupied a table at the very center of the room, where other diners had to walk around them to get to their seats. They did not sit with the other D'laians. They seemed to occupy a place in the world unto themselves. Wolan sat so that he could watch the far corner.

Anakin ate slowly, but had still finished his modest meal before Sabé arrived. He was surprised that she had the one-eyed Captain of Security with her after all. Typho must be very uneasy if he agreed to be part of Sabé's scheme. Particularly if it relied on Anakin.

Unless of course he was here to put a stop to it.

Anakin smiled to himself as he watched Sabé wend her way through the room toward his table. She must have brushed against at least three of the D'laians at the center of the room, ensuring their full attention. She was an extremely lovely woman. Typho followed her stolidly with a scowl on his face.

Anakin stood courteously as Sabé seated herself at the table. He could feel Wolan's eyes on him. 

Typho nodded gruffly to him. 

"I don't like this," Typho growled without preamble. Although they were visible to all, the noisy room gave the three a useful opportunity to speak without being overheard. "But I need a diversion. Their fighters are supposed to join us at midday tomorrow. I think that's when they'll make their move."

So he had the Captain's trust after all. Anakin was oddly pleased.

"Kidnapping?" Sabé asked quietly. 

"Probably. I have to plan for it in any case." Typho looked at the young Jedi, wondering just what his capabilities were. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"I don't know yet," Anakin said easily. "We'll let them think they are making all the moves. They have to be allowed to reveal themselves."

Typho was an orderly man whose career had been based on thoroughness and careful planning. He clearly didn't like the sound of this at all. Anakin felt his resistance but ignored it. The good Captain could not know that his awareness had been extended throughout the ship, and it seemed to him that an opportunity to make a move was just coming down the corridor toward the dining salon.

He waited.

Balé came into the room with a somewhat disconcerted Vespé in tow. The little girl searched the room carefully, and when she saw Anakin she came straight toward him as though he had been her destination all along. In her child's mind he was her friend already because they had met twice before and he had played with her. None of the other grownups on this ship had time to play tumble sticks.

Anakin smiled at her. She came close and leaned against his leg.

"Hello, Jedi," she said, happily.

"Hello again, Balé," he said. "I thought you said you had to go to bed?" 

Vespé looked miserable. "I tried," she said,  "but she wouldn't settle down. I said we could come here for a snack if she goes to bed straight after." She looked meaningfully at the little girl. Balé ignored her and focused her attention on her new friend.

"Do you want to play tumble sticks?" she asked. She was nothing if not goal-oriented.

Anakin smiled and looked around the room, checking the D'laians in the process. They were watching, all right.

"There isn't much room here," he said. 

"We could go into the big room," the little girl persisted.

"Balé!" Vespé protested. "You mustn't impose on people like that!"

"It's all right," Anakin said. "I don't mind at all." He looked around the table. "In fact, why don't we all go into the Salon?" He looked at Balé. "Would you like to learn how to juggle?"

"Yes!" Her eyes were huge. "Can you teach me?"

"I would be delighted," said Anakin gallantly.

Suddenly he felt wave after wave of disapproval and anger wash over him from Sabé and Typho. He knew what they were thinking, but would not be deterred.

 "Why don't you go over to the sideboard and choose six nice round fruits," he suggested to Balé, "and then we can go into the big room and juggle them."

Delighted, the child was off like a shot, with Vespé tagging along behind.

Anakin turned around to face the glares of his co-conspirators. He could read their feelings as clearly as if they had spoken. _How dare you use the child?  _their looks said. _How dare you get her involved in this? _

"What makes you think," Anakin said to them evenly, just managing to keep his temper in check, "that I would ever let anything happen to her?"

"How could you?" Typho snarled, deep in his throat. 

"And you?" Anakin shot back. "You brought her on board. She shouldn't be on a mission like this in the first place. If we do nothing and the ship is taken hostage tomorrow as you fear, how safe will she be then?" He got up to leave. "I am going to the Salon to teach Balé how to juggle," he said. "And then she is going safely to bed. You can join me or not. I really don't care."

He moved away from the table to join the little girl and her minder, who were already carrying the requested fruit. Picking up the delighted child into his arms he carried her out of the dining salon without a glance at his companions or at the D'laians.

On his way out he reflected bitterly that no matter what he did, or however good his intentions, people seemed to fear and mistrust him. Even the Jedi. Even his Master.


	5. Chapter 5 Juggling Act

Chapter 5. Juggling Act   

In the Salon Anakin, Balé and Vespé sat on the richly carpeted floor with the pile of fruit in front of them. They started by practicing tossing one piece of fruit up in the air and catching it.

Toss and catch. Toss and catch. Toss and catch.

"Higher," commanded Anakin. Balé giggled and dropped her fruit a few times. But she was getting the hang of it.

"Now the other hand."

Toss and catch. Vespé was getting the feel for it, too. She was smiling and seemed to lose some of her shyness.

A few people began to drift into the Salon. Anakin ignored them.

"Now," said Anakin, "Two fruits. Both hands at the same time."

Toss and catch. Balé kept laughing and dropping her fruit, but to her credit she kept trying. Her laugh was infectious. Anakin noticed smiles on the faces of some of the spectators in the Salon. The ones who smiled were all from Naboo.

"Good," said Anakin. "Very good. Now let's toss one fruit from one hand to the other." He smiled at Vespé, who was beginning to think that he was rather wonderful.

The Salon was filling up with people conversing quietly, although many were watching the lesson. Predictably enough, Wolan and his posse had arrived as well and were watching the game intently. 

"Now," said Anakin, "try this." He began to juggle two fruits very slowly. Balé collapsed laughing and dropped her fruit. Vespé was doing a creditable job of keeping hers in the air.

The Salon was fairly full and Anakin could feel a sense of expectancy in the room. Wolan was scowling but never took his eyes off Anakin.

Balé had given up. "I want to see you do it," she said to her Jedi. "I mean really do it."

"If you promise to go straight to bed," said Anakin, "I will juggle all six of these fruits."

He had her. She had to agree.

"I promise!" Her eyes were dancing.

They handed over their slightly bruised fruit and Anakin began with one, then two, and kept adding fruit until all six were flying through the air in a high, graceful arc. Balé clapped her hands. Anakin was on a roll. Some of the fruits flew behind his back and returned on the other side while the others kept circling in the air. All eyes in the Salon were on him and some of the adult spectators applauded. 

That was about all he could manage without a little Force involvement, and he wasn't ready for that yet. Slowly he let the arc get smaller until all the fruits were once again resting on the floor.

"More," Balé demanded. "Do it again!" 

"Bed," said Anakin gently. "You promised." He looked at Vespé, who stood up and held her hand out to the child. Balé went with only a little reluctance. She looked at Anakin. "Can we practice again tomorrow?"

"Of course," he said. "As soon as there is time." He foresaw that tomorrow might be a busy day.

"Thank you," the little girl said, and impulsively put her arms around his neck. Anakin was surprised at how deeply it moved him. "Go," he whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow." He watched her leave with Vespé and when they had left the Salon he stood up and turned to look at his audience.

Wolan stood up at the same time.

"Charming, " said the D'laian. "This must be why the Jedi are feared throughout the Galaxy. For their juggling skills."

His hangers-on snickered.

Anakin bent down to pick up the fruit and placed it on the table next to him. Seemingly as an afterthought, he picked up one piece and let it dance in the air above his hand. "The Jedi are feared?" He asked innocently. "I can't imagine why. We serve the Republic."

Idly he picked up another fruit and added it to the first. They danced together in mid-air in a complex pattern. Anakin felt a small dark wave of feeling emanate from the D'laians. 

Wolan couldn't let go. "Sorcerers serve only themselves," he said darkly. 

"Sorcerers?" Anakin asked sounding puzzled. "You mean this kind of sorcery?" He added another fruit to the air in front of him and made it go around the others in a contrary motion. A Naboo giggled. The spectators were really starting to enjoy the game despite the palpable tension in the room. Wolan's face was like a thundercloud.

"The D'laian delegation officially objects to your presence here." Wolan's voice reached all around the room.

Anakin replaced the fruit on the table and stood facing the D'laian with his arms crossed. "I am here as an observer at the request of the Chancellor of the Republic," he said mildly. He thought of it as only a small exaggeration. "I am sorry if you perceive my presence as a threat."

A low growl seemed to come from the D'laian warriors. Their leader went on, "A threat? You are nothing without your sorcery. It is only that which gives you a claim to any kind of skill. Any one of our warriors could defeat you without it."

Anakin noticed Typho and Sabé standing near the door of the Salon. Their eyes were locked on him, as were those of everyone else in the room.

"Are you suggesting a match of some kind?" Anakin asked gently. "Would that alleviate your concerns?" _Challenge me and be done with it, you pompous, second-rate braggart, Anakin_ thought to himself. _I am getting bored with this_. There was somewhere else he urgently wanted to be.

He saw the calculation begin behind the D'laian's eyes. "I have no concerns about you," said the warrior, "but a match would be very enjoyable." A few of the onlookers began to murmur. This was entertainment indeed.

Anakin shrugged. "Set your terms," he said, with studied diffidence. "I will be happy to oblige. Provided of course that our little entertainment does not interfere with the important work that is being done here."

The D'laian began to look downright greedy. "I challenge you myself. First thing tomorrow morning. My choice of weapons. And no sorcery." He smiled for the first time. "Skill only."

"As you wish." Anakin bent down to pick up the fruit. "Tomorrow, then. An exhibition match." He bowed politely to the D'laian. "I should return these to the galley."

As he left the Salon he spared only a brief, stony glance for Captain Typho and a slightly longer one for Sabé. Behind him the level of conversation in the Salon rose to an excited buzz. 

Sabé followed him to the galley. 

"I'm sorry, Anakin. I should have trusted you."

Anakin deposited his burden and turned to look at her. 

"You still don't," he observed. "Not really." 

"We're still on the same side, aren't we?" She pleaded.

"Just get me in to see Padmé," he said wearily. "And then safeguard our privacy. That is all I ask."

Sabé nodded. "This is as good a time as any. They're all busy talking about your match." They walked down the empty corridor in silence. 

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Sabé couldn't resist asking. The stakes were so high.

Anakin had reached the outside limits of his patience. 

"Just take me to Padmé," he said, ending the conversation. And then he was silent.


	6. Chapter 6 Meetings

**Chapter 6. Meetings**

Anakin pried open the ceiling panel and dropped quietly onto a thickly carpeted floor. Padmé's cabin was certainly more luxurious than the ones on the other side of the ship. The room was dimly lit and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. There wasn't a sound except for the faint, deep background thrum of the engines. He seemed to be in an empty bedroom.

Noiselessly he moved to the curving cabin wall, and slid along it through the deepest shadows toward an opening. It led to another room, evidently a sitting room, with a few tables and chairs and some wardrobes. The light was a bit brighter here.

Padmé was curled up in one of the chairs, wrapped in a dark cloak. After a few moments of listening he could make out regular breathing. He crept closer and found her asleep with her cheek resting on her hand. An almost untouched dinner tray sat on a low table at her side.

Anakin's throat tightened into a knot that tasted like tears. He was unprepared for the intensity of the feelings that swept over him at finally having her to himself. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been fighting his way toward Padmé in some way or another. Now his single-minded journey was over and longing turned into a desire so powerful that it swept him down to his knees in front of her. There he stayed for a while, just watching her sleep.

  
Bit by bit he let his head sink into her lap in complete surrender. It was the only place in the world where he felt at peace.  
  
Padmé knew he was there even before she woke. Her hand found his cropped hair and slid gently over it, down the soft skin of his neck and under the edge of his shirt as she curled forward to embrace him.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said into her lap. "Have you been waiting long?"

"A long time. It feels like forever." Her arms moved down around his shoulders and held him. He felt the knot begin to loosen. Far away the ship's engines pounded like a faint heartbeat. On top of that the silence in the room was profound.

Anakin reached up and gently began to draw her closer to his heart. "Is it possible that we actually have a moment of peace?"

She rested her head against his shoulder. "I am going to pretend that all those people have gone away. I only want to be with you."

"You're worried." He stroked her hair, her cheek, her throat. He had waited an eternity just to touch her.

"I walked into a trap. I don't know how to get out of it."

Still kneeling on the floor he wrapped her tightly in his embrace, as if to shelter her from the world. "I won't let you marry him. You won't have to." He was fierce.

She wanted to believe him. Sometimes it seemed to her he could do anything.

She made a last gesture toward her duties before giving up all thought of them. "Have you checked the ship?  Is everything all right?"

"It is for now." He stood up and reached down to gather her into his arms. "Your guests are surprisingly nervous considering that they appear to have the upper hand. Did you know that they have someone watching your door?  To see who goes in and out."

Padmé wrapped one arm around his neck and trailed the other hand along his face and across his lips as he carried her slowly toward the threshold of the other room. He drank in the feel and the warmth and the scent of her.

"Then how did you get in?"

"Sorcery," he said, with a faint smile.

Inside the bedroom Padmé noticed the open ceiling panel.

"I see," she said. "Sorcery." Burying her face in his neck, she said, "You don't have to listen to their nonsense. Just ignore it."

Using the Force to close the panel again so he didn't have to let go of her, Anakin decided that it was best to wait until later to mention what he was doing tomorrow.

* * * * * 

Another unbidden vision came to the ancient Jedi Master like a waking dream. Its power and urgency held him fast while a thousand pictures unrolled in his mind with the clarity of a holofilm. It was unlike any vision he had experienced before. He could do nothing to stop the flood of images.

They began in ancient times at the dawn of the Jedi Order. The face of every Jedi who had ever lived flashed before his inner eye. Some he recognized from pictures and studies in the archives. Some he had never seen or imagined. Many he had known personally because of his great age. But he knew with absolute certainty that they were all his Jedi forbears, and that he was seeing the face of each and every one.

On and on the faces went in a dizzying progression through the centuries. They saw him. They knew him. He knew them. Faster and faster the images past, and yet he could distinguish and acknowledge each one:  Each face. Each life. They reached out to him with their thoughts, their deeds, and their struggles. "See me!" they seemed to cry out. "Know me!" Three, four, five centuries passed and still the flood came. He was filled beyond filling with their faces and the strength of their collective being.

As the images continued Yoda began to realize with a rising sense of despair and disbelief that all of the faces had one thing in common.

Fear. Every face showed fear.

_This is not possible, _he thought as the centuries of beings continued to reveal themselves to him. Jedi do not fear. Some of the greatest Jedi in the history of the Order passed before his awareness. Yet in this vision they were all afraid.

Yoda began to repeat the litany that he had passed on to generation after generation of younglings_._

_Fear leads to anger._

_Anger leads to hate._

_Hate leads to suffering and to the Dark Side._

The vision continued to the present. All the living Jedi were there. All of them were afraid.

Except one.

The vision faded. The ancient Master sat for long time. 

A gentle tap on his door roused him and Obi-Wan slipped into the room.

"I am sorry to disturb you Master Yoda, but I must speak with you."

"Decided you have," the Old One observed wearily, still full of the grief and horror of his vision. "Follow your Padawan you will."

"I kept my promise to you, Master," Obi-Wan said, humbly. "I have thought about it. I have meditated on it." He looked up and in his eyes the old Master saw reflected in them the long line of the young man's Jedi predecessors back to the beginning. "I cannot and will not give up on him."

Master Yoda sat in weary silence for a long time. _So young is he, he thought. Such a heavy burden he carries_. And yet he knew from his vision that the burden was shared by all those who had come before. By every Jedi who ever had been and who was now. 

_This one,_ he thought. _This one._ Before him sat the young Jedi whose face had been without fear in his vision. He felt an outpouring of the deepest love for the younger man – the unequivocal love of the Force for all things that live and strive.

"Stop you, I will not. Heavy my heart is at the burden you take on."

"I took up this responsibility long ago, Master. I cannot put it down."

_Fortunate the boy is_, thought Yoda, _to have this one as his Master. Know it, he may not._

"Go, then, Jedi Knight," Yoda said, grieving.

Obi-Wan stood up, bowed, and slipped back out the door.

Meditating further, Yoda realized that two faces had not appeared in his vision.

His own, and that of Obi-Wan's Padawan.

* * * * *

Elsewhere in the dark, deep night Padmé was awake.

"Anakin?" she whispered.

"Here." He reached for her.

"Anakin, do you believe in destiny?"

It took him a long time to answer. First he had to get past the clutch of bitterness he always felt at the word. It always seemed to come hand in hand with another hated set of words:  The Chosen One. That indefinable, unproven, random epithet that had catapulted him into the Jedi Order and followed him like a dark cloud ever since. Did he believe in destiny?  He didn't know. How could one know?

Finally he said, "The Jedi teach that destiny is a river that flows inexorably from its source to its end in the sea, where it loses itself in the larger cycle of the world. The end is inevitable. The fact that it will flow to the sea is inevitable. But in the river itself there are an infinite number of paths to that end. At every bend, at every rock and obstruction there are numerous decision points. New flows. Counterpoints. Diversions."

"So that is our free will?  The ability to choose the path, but not the ultimate outcome?

"I suppose."

She felt his resistance. "Do you believe that?"

There was another long silence. An intense silence that seemed alive with possibilities.

"I don't want to believe that the outcome is pre-ordained," he finally said. The realization was a revelation to him. Fervently went on, "I want to believe in free will. That we can change things and make them better. That the paths we choose are our own, and lead to new places."

"You believe in freedom, then."

"Yes." He turned the thought over and over in his mind. "In freedom." Then he paused. "Why do you ask?"

"I keep feeling that some kind of destiny – some Force – has flung us together."

He moved closer. "Why does it have to be destiny?"

"Anakin, the Galaxy is vast. What are the chances of our finding each other if there weren't something else working toward it? Some kind of power or Force?"

_The will of the Force. Destiny. _

Anakin realized he wanted none of it. 

The believer in freedom wrapped himself around the believer in destiny so that she couldn't have moved if she tried.

"I would have found you anywhere," he said.

* * * * * 

It was always night in space. Padmé would have been content to let it go on forever. But the daily cycles of planetary life were imposed as inexorably on the ship as they were at home, and so at a time that purported to be early morning Sabé tried as discretely as possible to make her presence known to her Mistress.

Anakin heard her soft taps on the door from the sitting room immediately and decided it was time to go. By the time Padmé woke up and heard them he was dressed.

"No!" she said, making a grab for him. "Don't go."

Sabé heard her voice and called out, "My Lady?  May I come in?"

"I have to," Anakin whispered. "Sabé's here."

"Oh, don't mind her," Padmé said, making another grab for him. "She got you in here in the first place, didn't she?" 

He caught her hand and kissed it. "Yes, but I can get myself out."

"My Lady?"

Padmé continued to ignore her Handmaiden, intent as she was on keeping Anakin there for just a little longer. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Ready or not, I'm coming in," said Sabé firmly. The door slid open. Anakin disappeared into the fresher.

Sabé stopped short when she saw her Mistress. "Ye Gods," she burst out. "How do you look!"

Padmé scowled at her. "What are you talking about?"

It wasn't just the disarray, Sabé thought. It was her face, her lips, and the look in her eyes. She looked like a woman who had been…"Gods."

"I don't know how to say it," Sabé said with complete honesty. "You look …" she struggled to find the right words. "You look …"

"Ravishing," Anakin said, coming out of the fresher. "She looks ravishing." He looked the same as always, although perhaps with less of an edge.

"More like ravished," Sabé muttered as Padmé looked at her indignantly. "What am I going to do with you?  You can't go out looking like that! And what's that thing on your neck?"

Padmé looked at Anakin. He mouthed something that looked like "Sorry." Then, quickly, to Sabé, "Which way out?" 

Sabé jerked her thumb upward. "You had better hurry." He started to open the ceiling panel. 

"Wait," Padmé demanded. "What is going on?"

Sabé looked at Anakin accusingly. "You didn't tell her."

He was unabashed. "I didn't get around to it."

Sabé put her hands on her hips. "Well, My Lady, your glittering bridegroom has challenged our young Jedi here to a swordfight. An exhibition match. This morning. In the dining salon. The whole ship is coming."

Padmé was horrified.

"Don't worry," Sabé hurried to reassure her. "It's not about you. Your secret is safe. It seems to be about Jedi scum and sorcery."

"Coming?" Anakin asked Padmé ingenuously.

"Under no circumstances," Padmé said, outraged, "will I condone such a display on my ship. And in the middle of negotiations! I forbid it."

"Anakin can't back down," Sabé said. "Our warrior friends would take it as a sign of weakness and come straight in for the kill. He's actually doing us a favor." She grinned at Anakin. "Provided he wins, of course." She leaned conspiratorially toward Padmé. "He's not allowed to use sorcery, you see."

"This is an outrage," said the Senator, tight-lipped.

Anakin bent down to kiss her, then looked straight into her yes. "Don't worry, Senator," he said, "I have your best interests at heart." His eyes said, _trust me_. And then he disappeared through the opening in the ceiling, pulling the panel gently shut behind him.

Padmé stared at the place where he had disappeared.

"Come on," said Sabé to her mistress. "There's not much time to get you decent."

"Don't bother," Padmé said darkly. "I'm not going."

"Perhaps not," said Sabé firmly, "but I am. I wouldn't miss it for the world." She looked speculatively at her Mistress. "Perhaps I can find something with a veil…."

"Out," said the Senator. "Get out now." And she buried her head in a pillow.


	7. Chapter 7 The Match

**Chapter 7. The Match**

The dining salon had been completely cleared by the time Anakin arrived. He surveyed the space with a practiced eye, wondering briefly where they had put all the furniture. _Big enough for normal sparring_, he thought, _but severely limiting to Jedi_. There was almost no room to move. 

To make it worse, the entire complement of passengers had arranged themselves around the edges of the room. No one wanted to miss the entertainment. It would be almost impossible to fight without hurting someone. 

He found Typho standing by the door and beckoned to him. 

"These people can't stand here like this," he said. "Someone is going to get hurt."

"I thought this was a friendly match?" Typho saw the problem as well, of course, but couldn't resist jibing the boy every chance he got. Despite his official position he was looking forward to the fight as much as everyone else.

"Move them out," Anakin demanded, "or there will be no match."

"How're you going to get out of it boy, eh?" Typho was amused. "Back down?"

"We'll just have to take it off the ship," Anakin countered. "That means a change in itinerary, rearranging everyone's schedule, landing permissions…" He looked squarely at Typho. "Do you love red tape that much?"

The Captain threw up his hands. "Fine. I'll move them."

It took fifteen minutes of group discussion and negotiations for the spectators to agree to squeeze themselves into a tight group at one end of the room. Equal numbers of Nubian and D'laian security personnel made up the front row to act as buffers if necessary. It was the best they could do.

The buzz of discussion reached a higher pitch and then stopped when Wolan entered the room with a small entourage. It was a grand entrance, or course. Wolan would never enter any other way. He was dressed in a glittering shirt, leggings and long soft boots. He thrilled the crowd by slowly and deliberately removing the shirt to reveal a taut well-muscled torso. He wasn't bulky. Anakin quickly assessed his training as having been in speed and accuracy.

Anakin was more interested in observing the two long, thin swords that one of the D'laian soldiers had carried into the room. 

All the attention was on the glamorous D'laian. The quiet young Jedi on the far side of the room hardly caught anyone's attention at all.

That was just the way Anakin wanted it.

Then Wolan yelled, "Hey, Jedi!" and all eyes turned to him. Anakin looked up.

Wolan went on, "This is a straight match, remember?  None of your sorcery. And get rid of that light sword.

Anakin had no intention of using his light saber. The match wouldn't last ten seconds. But he was not happy about removing it from his person. 

"Of course I won't use it," he said. "You are not equally armed." A ripple went through the spectators.

"That's not good enough, Jedi."

Anakin saw the man's point of view. He looked around the room and wondered to whom he could safely entrust it. Padmé had kept her vow not to dignify this display with her presence. Sabé?  She had her hands full with Balé, who clearly wanted to sit on her shoulders so she could see. Better to leave it. Then he realized what he had to do. Typho, of course. _Keep your adversaries close… _The man didn't like him but Anakin had faith in his honor and sense of justice. 

He strode over to Typho, unclipped his light saber and offered it to the Captain without saying a word. The very act of handing it over evoked a memory of Obi-Wan's voice saying,  "_This weapon is your life." _It made him feel terribly alone again.

Typho nodded and took it gingerly. He had never touched one of these things before. The cylinder was heavier than he expected and warm from having rested against Anakin's body. 

"Don't worry," Anakin smiled. "It won't activate."

Typho nodded a bit gruffly, grasped the weapon in one hand and folded his arms in such a way that the saber hilt rested on the elbow of his other arm in full sight.

_Good man_, thought Anakin.

Then he unfastened his cloak and handed it to the security guard who stood next to Typho. He could just as easily fight while wearing it, and it often made a good defensive weapon, but he thought he would begin simply.

Anakin moved back to the center of the dining room, turned to face Wolan, and bowed.

Wolan continued to dominate the scene by reiterating the rules they had agreed on.

"Exhibition match, one round, my choice of weapons. The match continues until one of us yields."

A little murmur of excitement rippled through the onlookers.

Wolan went on. "I choose these!" He gestured dramatically toward the swords the soldier at his side was carrying. On cue, the man came around in front of Wolan, knelt and offered him his choice of swords. 

Anakin saw him look at both swords very quickly before he selected the one closest to him.

The soldier then brought the other sword to Anakin, with considerably less ceremony.

He took the proffered weapon and weighed it in his hand. It was about a meter long, very thin and flexible, with a sharp tip. The handle fit neatly enough into his hand. He moved it experimentally, judging its flexibility and balance with mathematical precision.

"What do you call these swords?" he asked, thrusting the sword once or twice.

The D'laian's eyes narrowed as he watched Anakin work the sword. "They are called Balaan. Have you never used one before?"

Anakin said casually, but clearly enough that everyone could hear him, "I've never seen one before."

The crowd cooed.

"Let us begin," Wolan said shortly, and took up an elegant stance in the center of the space that had been allotted for the match. He was using his right hand.

Anakin followed suit, making certain that his movements, expression and demeanor were as unassuming as his rival's were dramatic. His mental shielding was in place. Anakin also used his right hand – that annoying object that moved well enough with nerve and muscle impulses but was ignored by the Force. It was gloved as always, however, and did not advertise its presence.

Someone on the side called out "Begin!" and the D'laian began circling to the left. Anakin mirrored his movements, willing his opponent to make the first few moves. He reckoned he would need four or five plays to fully master the man's fighting style – whatever it turned out to be. He didn't have to wait long.

The first thrust came toward Anakin like a flash. He hadn't noticed any movements that might have telegraphed it. _Interesting_. He parried quickly enough, and then went back to circling. 

On the second attack Wolan feinted deftly, then came in under Anakin's sword right toward his heart. A classic killing thrust. Anakin twisted aside easily enough and went back to circling. The man was very good, for someone who used only his material senses. Anakin wondered idly whether the first two moves represented his best or his worst effort.

It was time to check out the D'laian's defensive style. In the space of two heartbeats Anakin attacked, using a classic double feint. Wolan slipped through the pattern like butter and laughed out loud. He was clearly enjoying himself. The audience tittered.

_Patience_, Anakin reminded himself, imagining again that it was Obi-Wan speaking. _There is more to this than meets the eye. Allow it to reveal itself. _

Clearly confident, the D'laian began to attack systematically using a backward and forward movement with complex and elegant footwork. The slashes were often diagonal, thrusts inevitably aimed for the center of the body. Anakin automatically adjusted his defenses to the rhythm established by his opponent while evaluating every move he made. Something about the style seemed familiar. Where had he seen it before?

After a few minutes Anakin realized that nothing more was happening. He had seen to it that his style and skill matched the D'laian's, so they were at a kind of impasse. Neither one took the advantage. It was an exhibition match after all, Anakin thought. Should he make a move?

A powerful feeling told him to wait. _Wait._ Something would be revealed. His purpose, after all, was to make the D'laian show his true nature and intentions. Anakin continued to hold back while mastering the style better and better with each step and thrust.

Then something shifted subtly. Anakin felt it as a kind of vibration in the Force before he heard the tone. The D'laian's sword was beginning to hum. It was almost imperceptible at first, but before long the tone grew loud enough for the audience to perceive it. It was a single tone without any perceptible harmonics and Anakin began to realize that it was cutting through his energy field as sharply as the blade would cut through his flesh. It was as though the blade's vibration could cut the force in two. Anakin felt the cuts as a searing pain although his body had not been touched. His ability to channel the Force faltered with each cut and he found himself having to fight with muscle and sinew alone.

At this rate he would tire quickly.

The D'laians sighed ecstatically when they began to perceive the sound. It was as though they had been waiting for it.

Then, suddenly, Anakin knew. It was a magic-killer; a sword whose specific purpose was to defeat those who used invisible powers. The sword had to be constructed so that a specific series of movements set up the sound vibrations. He had heard of such weapons. They were probably quite common on a magic-phobic world. Since the source of all so-called magic was ultimately the Force, it was a very effective weapon to use on an unsuspecting Jedi.

But only on an unsuspecting one. 

The pain was growing and Anakin felt his muscles tiring. He faltered slightly. There was a murmur from the Naboo. They had not for one minute expected the D'laian to find a weakness in a Jedi. They were probably worried about their bets.

_I have had enough of this_, he thought. He had not survived everything life had thrown at him so far only to stumble into a clumsy trap set by a self-important, Force-blind warlord. Anakin had the urge to reach out and snap the D'laian's neck and be done with it. The anger felt warm and energizing like an extra surge of muscle power. He held on to it and used it.

With all the speed he was still capable of he ducked and rolled while switching his sword to his left hand. He felt the Force flow down his arm to his fingertips. Using it for direction and speed he began move his own sword in a rhythmic pattern that he calculated would result in the same kind of tone. He was right. The sound began below hearing and rapidly escalated to the same level as the D'laian's, at almost the same pitch. Immediately the pain went away as the vibrations from his sword countered those of his opponent, deflecting them before they could do any damage.

_That was only the first step_, Anakin thought with satisfaction as he saw the surprise on Wolan's face. _You are going to be sorry you ever challenged me. _

Anakin smiled and his sword began to sing. He found that he could vary the pitch with only slight adjustments in the speed of movement. Then with equally small shifts in the plane of movement he came close to creating harmonics. To accomplish these almost opposing actions he had to move with blinding speed. The spectators gasped and began to hold their hands over their ears. Wolan fell back again and again as the complex vibrations emitted by Anakin's sword created disturbances in the D'laian's own energy field. The one he did not believe he had.

_The Force penetrates and binds us all…_

Even the spectators began to feel ill as the sound penetrated their bodies.

Then, and only then, did Anakin drop his mental shielding. Several things happened at once. 

Wolan involuntarily slowed his movements and his sword stopped humming.

The spectators fell into a shocked silence.

Anakin took advantage of the brief halt and silence to knock the D'laian's sword completely out of his hand and catch it with his own. 

The spectators suddenly noticed that the swords were silent and that the Jedi held both of them at Wolan's throat.

"Yield," he said. Now that he was back in control he didn't need the anger any more, and it subsided. 

"Sorcerer scum," the D'laian spat. He didn't look quite so handsome with his face contorted with rage. "No one can make a Balaan sound like that."

"I can," said Anakin, the sword tips still at his adversary's throat. He noticed that the D'laian was ever so subtly shying away more from the tip of his own sword than from the one Anakin had used. 

Anakin immediately dropped his own sword and continued to hold up the other. 

"Yield," he demanded again.

There was a long bitter silence. Anakin could feel the struggle in the other. Finally the words came.

"I yield."

There was an excited murmur from the crowd. 

Anakin calmed himself further, stepped back and bowed slightly. "Thank you for the match," he said with as pleasant a voice as he could summon. "It was most interesting." He kept a firm grip on the sword the D'laian had used, thinking that he should have the tip analyzed for poison. The D'laian had other ideas.

"My sword," he said stiffly. "You still hold my sword."

Anakin calculated his next steps carefully. It would not do to accuse Wolan of treachery if there was no proof of it. The only way was to draw him out.

He focused on his light saber, still being held by a stony-faced Typho, and brought it uppermost into his awareness. With another bow, he handed the sword to his adversary and then deliberately turned his back on the D'laian and walked toward the Captain. _I dare you, _he thought, with all the intensity he could muster.

He felt the intention before he heard the faint rush of air as the sword was hurled at him tip first. As he dodged it he called his light saber to him and activated it in the same instant. As the Balaan shot harmlessly by his shoulder he severed the blade before it could harm anyone else. The two pieces of the sword fell to the floor like stones.

There was another gasp from the crowd. Anakin did not bother looking back at his attacker. He simply bent down to pick up the cut tip of the blade in his gloved hand and walked over to the slightly stunned security guard who was still clutching his cloak. The man actually bowed to him when he returned it.

Anakin returned the bow and turned to Captain Typho. "I would like a word with you when you have a moment, Captain."

Typho nodded and followed the Jedi out of the room.

In the corridor outside the dining room Anakin showed the sword tip to the Captain and said,  "I have reason to believe that this may be poisoned. Do you have the facilities to verify that?"

Typho looked at him in surprise. "I can manage it." He took a glove out of his pocket and carefully wrapped the piece of metal in it. Then he looked Anakin right in the eye. "This may be just the break we need. Thank you." 

Anakin shrugged. "I serve," he said.

As Typho turned away Anakin suddenly couldn't resist asking, "Tell me Captain – whom did you bet on?"

The man grinned. He actually grinned.

"On you, of course." Typho walked down the corridor with the light step of man who had just won a lot of money.


	8. Chapter 8 Awakenings

**Chapter 8. Awakenings**

Padmé looked around the large conference table and wondered how she could have been so blind. How could she have wrapped herself in duty the way Sabé had draped her in the filmy headdress and veil she now wore?  

It was a subdued enough garment by the standards of the Naboo but did not meet the requirements of the Senator's newly established aesthetic. Still, it served a useful purpose today. And it had the added advantage of allowing her to observe every face in the room without seeming to do so.

Wolan's face, which had previously always appeared at the forefront of every discussion, was now almost hidden in a back corner of the room. He was not seated at the conference table. The two Foreign Ministers had taken over the negotiations.

On the table in front of the Naboo Foreign Minister lay the severed tip of Wolan's sword. Next to it lay a report analyzing the toxic substance found on its tip.

Every D'laian in the room was scowling. Periodically one or the other of them would allow his eyes to slide toward the wall behind Padmé and then would look away again. 

How could she have been naïve enough to believe that these people were negotiating in good faith?  How could she have even briefly considered committing herself to one of them personally in order to safeguard Naboo?  Padmé reached behind her in her imagination to find the warm presence that had changed everything.

Anakin was standing motionless against the wall behind her but she imagined she could feel a living pulse of energy coming from him. It was indescribably reassuring. Even sitting here in this room with group of warriors who could turn ugly at a moment's notice, and who in all likelihood would do just that once they heard Naboo's new terms, Padmé felt safe. And happy. And free.

Inwardly free.

Outwardly most things were the same. In some ways they were about to get worse.

She didn't care. 

_Anakin, _she thought.

_Here. _She actually imagined she felt him answer.

With difficulty she brought her thoughts back to the table and the task at hand.

"….betrayal of trust," the Nubian Foreign Minister was saying. "As a result we can under no circumstances agree to the conditions that you have set forth."

The D'laians muttered among themselves. Wolan's rash act had not only scuttled their advantage in the negotiations, it represented a severe loss of face for D'lai. There wasn't one among them who wanted to be in his shoes when they returned home. Treachery was fine. Being caught was not.

"What is your proposal?" countered the D'laian negotiator.

The Naboo allowed a dramatic silence to settle over the room before replying.

"In the interests of regional solidarity Naboo continues to be willing to pursue an agreement between our planets based on mutual interest. We are willing to continue in this matter without reference of any kind to this morning's incident."

The D'laian looked at him across the table. "In return for…"

"There is to be absolutely no further discussion of a condition of marriage, now or in the future. And a number of other provisions will have to change as well."

Padmé wondered why the D'laians continued to mutter and rumble among themselves. It should have been perfectly obvious that Naboo would respond in this way. On the other hand they didn't seem to be able to grasp the concept of alliance without acquisition of an economic and legal stake in the ally.

One of the younger warriors stood up, raised a curved ceremonial dagger in his fist for all to see and shouted, "We can take what we want!"

Weapons were forbidden at the negotiation table. This one must have slipped through as part of his elaborate costume.

The dagger pulled away from his hand and floated through the air to land gently on the table next to the broken sword tip. All eyes turned to Anakin, whose expression had not changed at all. If some of those eyes had contained daggers he would have had to engage his light saber by now. 

The Naboo Foreign Minister stood up.

"On the other hand," he said sharply, "if you are not willing to negotiate in good faith, we can end these discussions now."

The D'laian stood as well. "My apologies for the young one's rashness," he said, looking as though the words tasted bitter. "We request a recess of one hour in order to communicate your proposal to D'lai and to await instructions."

_They are stalling for time. _Anakin's thought entered Padmé's consciousness with perfect clarity. She wasn't imagining it.

She drew the Naboo negotiator down to her and whispered in his ear.

"We agree to a recess of one hour," he said. 

The D'laians continued to radiate hatred toward Anakin as they filed out of the room. The change in the room's atmosphere once they left was a relief.

Padmé went to the COM link and called Typho, Sabé and Dormé to the conference room. Anakin's presence at their emergency summit meeting, like his presence in the room during negotiations, now seemed to be a matter of course. Anakin chose to remain standing behind Padmé. Suddenly she was deeply grateful for the veil and discretely tugged it just a little lower, because the communication she was receiving from him had nothing to do with words.

"Well?" The Foreign Minister asked.

"Our fighters are scheduled to arrive from Naboo in three hours," Typho announced. "Theirs will arrive sooner. We have to go along with the pretence until then."

"That won't be enough," Anakin said suddenly.

They all looked at him.

"Their thoughts betray them," he insisted. "They are awaiting a much larger force."

There was an awkward silence. Typho said carefully, "That is not what we have been given to understand. What is your evidence for saying that?"

"Believe it, Captain. Your fighters will not be able to defend you."

There was another silence as they struggled with their dilemma. Should they trust an inexperienced young Jedi over their own intelligence sources?

Finally Typho said, "If that is true, why did you not give us this information sooner?"

Anakin looked straight at him. "If I had been involved sooner I might have been able to."

Typho looked around the table for support. The two Handmaidens remained silent, as did the remaining members of the delegation. The Foreign Minister looked at the Senator.

As usual it came down to Padmé to make the decision.

_Trust me, _Anakin said inside her inner awareness. _Trust me. _It was getting uncanny.

"Captain," Padmé asked, "how much of a force can we muster to come to our aid if this is true?"

"It depends what they are planning to do." He was looking more annoyed by the minute. "If all they intend to do is take this ship hostage we can hold them off."

"And if they have something more aggressive in mind?" Padmé prompted gently. "If they plan to turn on Naboo, for example?"

Typho looked grim. "That is something we cannot defend ourselves against. Not even with more time." He started rubbing his forehead with his hand. The gesture made him look defeated, somehow. "We were counting on the D'laians to bolster our military defense."

_This is like being Queen again_, Padmé thought. 

"Captain," she finally said,  "send an encoded message to the Chancellor on Coruscant. Priority."

There was an uncomfortable silence around the table while they waited for the Chancellor's holographic image to appear.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Chancellor," Padmé said to the image,  "but I need your help. We have reason to believe that the D'laians are preparing to attack us, and possibly Naboo. Do you know of anyone in the Sector who could come to our aid on short notice?"

_"This is grave news indeed,"_ the image responded. _"How have you come by this_ _information?"_

"Jedi Skywalker believes it to be the case."

_"Is he there, Senator Amidala?  May I speak with him?"_

Typho reached over and widened the field so that Anakin appeared in the image the Chancellor was receiving.

_"My friend,"_ said Palpatine, _"tell me the situation." _Padmé could have sworn that she felt a wave of gratitude coming from Anakin. 

"The D'laians are clearly delaying negotiations until the arrival of a significant military force. I do not know its numbers or their exact intentions, but they are anticipating its arrival very soon."

Palpatine's holo – image looked as grave as a flickering mass of atomic particles could look.

_"Senator,"_ he said, _"You must trust your Jedi protector's assessment of the situation. This is precisely why I asked him to accompany you. I will take immediate steps to find you some assistance. Please take all necessary precautions until I get word to you. Is there anything else?" _

_* * * * *_

"No, thank you Chancellor..." Padmé was beginning to say, when Anakin rudely interrupted her. He didn't mean to. But a vivid, compelling picture had been forming in his mind, along with a compulsion to speak. 

"Chancellor, there is more," he said, almost unwillingly. Padmé looked at him, startled.

The holo – image flickered and waited. Anakin plunged on. The words just came out of his mouth. But he knew them to be true. He just knew.

"I have no direct proof, but there is a possibility that the D'laians are secretly allied with the Separatists."

A gasp went up around the table. Everyone waited breathlessly to see how the Chancellor would respond. Anakin could feel Padmé's stab of dismay as clearly as if it were his own. 

"_Again your Jedi protector serves you well, Senator," _the holo – image said. _"I have very recent information suggesting the same thing, but I had hoped it was not true. Now you must be very cautious indeed."_

Anakin was surprised not only by what he had said, but also by the fact that the Chancellor had confirmed it.

"Thank you, Chancellor," Padmé said, in a creditably calm voice. "We are grateful for your assistance."

Typho and the Foreign Minister were staring at Anakin with undisguised surprise.

Sabé looked at him long and thoughtfully.

Anakin, on the other hand, only had eyes for Padmé, whose mood had shifted abruptly during the discussion with the Chancellor. He tried to reach out to her but she didn't respond.

The Senator stood up abruptly. "Wait for the Chancellor's communication, and inform the Queen. Give nothing away to our guests. If they want to resume discussions before I get back, say that I have called away on other business."

She left her stunned staff and colleagues behind at the long, gleaming table on which a D'laian ceremonial dagger still lay side by side with the poisoned tip of a sword.

Anakin followed her like a shadow.

"I hope she gives him Hell," Typho said, watching them go.

* * * * *

The Supreme Chancellor of the Republic lingered at his desk after the holo – image disappeared. Occasionally one had to allow oneself a small sense of pleasure at a well-formed plan. This was one of those times.

The D'laian fools had behaved exactly as predicted. It was always a pleasure to work, however indirectly, with the Force-blind. Greed and pride were such dependable motivators.

The oppositional Senator was about to be rescued by, and become dependent on, the very army whose formation she had worked so hard to defeat. A fighting force had already been positioned nearby to come to her aid.

She was also well on her way to assuring the boy's eventual estrangement from the Jedi. He sensed that the connection between them had increased exponentially.

It was a good thing, he reflected, that she had not been killed ten years ago as originally planned. She was much more useful now.

And the boy – well, the boy. Such potential. So very receptive. And so full of conflict. He looked forward enormously to clarifying things for him.

He wanted the boy, and he wanted him soon. He had need of him. But the keys to his success had always been vision and patience. It would take a little more doing, he thought. But Anakin would be his.

* * * * *

Once Obi-Wan had made the decision to go after Anakin he moved quickly. If he hurried he could arrive on Naboo shortly after the Queen's Yacht, thus giving his young Padawan less time to get in trouble.

He hoped.

While filing his flight plan just before departure Obi-Wan was given a routine update about conditions in the Sector to which he was traveling. He didn't expect any surprises.

He was wrong.

He read the paragraph twice, with increasing alarm.

He read it a third time.

The Royal Yacht of the Queen of the Naboo was under attack by a Separatist faction from a planet called D'lai. Republican armed forces had been sent to engage the Separatists. Travelers to the Sector were warned to proceed with caution. Coordinates were given. 

Obi-Wan shook his head in astonishment as he walked toward his ship.

_What in blazes has Anakin done now?_

It was a measure of Obi-Wan's experiences as Anakin's Master that his first reaction to news of a serious incident was to assume, without irony, that his Padawan had something to do with it.

It had been a very long ten years.

  



	9. Chapter 9 Siege

**Chapter 9. Siege **

Padmé was silent as she walked toward her stateroom with her ever-present protector by her side, turning the situation in which they found themselves over and over in her mind. It was not a peaceful silence. 

"What is it?" Anakin asked, sensing her feelings without being able to attribute them. 

Padmé didn't answer. They reached the stateroom, Anakin ushered her inside and made sure the door was secure. He checked both rooms to make certain they were alone.

"Have I done something wrong?" he asked into unnerving silence.

"You are.... remarkable, Anakin," she said shortly when she finally did speak. "You constantly surprise me."

"Sometimes I surprise myself," he admitted.

Padmé yanked off her veil and flung it onto the nearest chair. Anakin was visibly taken aback by the intensity of her emotions.

"Is it the D'laians?" 

Padmé stood in the center of the stateroom with her arms crossed as though she were holding herself together. 

"What's wrong?" he persisted. "Tell me. Is it…is it my fault?

"I'm angry at myself," Padmé finally said. "I feel like a fool."

"You are anything but a fool," Anakin protested, needing to protect her even from herself. "It is a difficult situation."

Padmé took a deep breath. "It's not just the D'laians," she said. "It's everything." She was holding on to herself tightly. Anakin took a step toward her but hesitated, uncertain. 

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "If I have done something to upset you …something I shouldn't…"

"Oh, Anakin," Padmé said, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm here in the middle of a political crisis. My ship, my people and now possibly my planet are in danger. I have to face the fact that I have shown very poor judgment." She looked at him, taking in the hesitant, guilty look on his face and finished heatedly,  "I cannot afford to be distracted."

"I distract you?" Anakin asked, completely crushed. "I thought I was helping."

"You're not helping!" she burst out. "We have been betrayed and are about to be attacked and yet all I can think about is you!" She glared at him as if anger could keep her from going under. "What are you doing in my thoughts, anyway?"

Anakin suddenly found himself very confused. "You're angry because…because" – he went on tentatively because he could barely believe what he was hearing – "…you love me?"

"To distraction," she said furiously. "I can't think when you're standing right next to me."

Anakin was out of his depth. Nothing in his upbringing among the sedate and mindful Jedi had prepared him to deal with outbursts of contradictory logic –unless they were his own, which were never tolerated. All his pride would allow him to hear was that he had disappointed her in some way.

"Do you not want me near you?" He asked uneasily. 

Padmé buried her face in her hands. Anakin didn't know whether she was going to cry, or laugh. Either possibility was deeply upsetting.

"Anakin." She tried again. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be all the things I was before and to be in love with you at the same time."

_This can't be happening_, he thought as dark tendrils of doubt crept into the center of his being. It felt like an abyss was opening in front of him.

* * * * *

The moment she saw his face, Padmé regretted her words. She felt him withdraw from her and it hurt like a physical ache.

"Anakin, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that…"

She stopped at the look on his face.

"I'm sorry that it's so difficult to love me," he said stiffly, backing away. 

"Don't, Anakin." Padmé wished she could take back everything she had said since leaving the meeting. _He ought to just take me in his arms and tell me everything is going to be all right, _she thought.

But this was Anakin. He defied all known articles of faith.

 "Loving you is the easiest thing in the world, Padmé," he said, not looking directly at her. He seemed very far away. "I don't have to think about it. It's not a struggle. It's like waking up every morning and knowing that I'm breathing. And knowing that I have been breathing all of my life and that I will until the day I die."

"You make it sound so simple," she said wistfully. _He loves like a child, _she thought. _Freely. Purely. Unconditionally. _She wondered whether she could do the same.

Anakin looked down and unseeingly traced the back of a nearby chair with his fingers.

"You know," he said, "everyone in my life seems to be afraid of me." He stopped and looked straight into her eyes. "I didn't know that you were, too."

The sudden darkness in his eyes was not remotely childlike. In her whole life Padmé had never met anyone like him. He was like a series of interlocking puzzles – as soon as you solved one another appeared. Everywhere he went he brought change. New paths opened while old ones closed. 

He was right, in a way. She was afraid – but not of him. She was afraid of taking a new path. 

_Anakin, _she called out silently.

There was no answer.

In disbelief Padmé watched him turn and walk out the door, closing it behind him.

The pain she felt was physical.

* * * * *

When Anakin moved, he moved fast. When he was angry, so did everything else. Jumping out of the way to avoid a hatch that slammed shut of its own accord in the young Jedi's wake, Captain Typho wondered whether working with a Jedi who was in full operations mode was always like this. Things seemed to be banging and flying around everywhere.

Still, under the circumstances it was pretty useful to have him on board. The boy had shown up at the last minute with a face like a Malastarian funeral mask, but with his efficient help the Naboo had prepared for hostilities in record time and with a satisfying level of secrecy. 

To outward appearances the ship still seemed more or less the same in terms of the distribution and activities of the Naboo aboard. But weapons had been distributed and hidden around the ship, and the maintenance ducts were mined with sensors. The Queen's staterooms had been secured with guards posted inside the door and above each room in the ducts. All the Naboo aboard had been briefed on what to expect. 

It was a typical, civilized, peace-loving Nubian plan: sit tight and wait for help. They just needed to hold out until the promised Republican fighting force arrived. 

Anakin thought Typho's approach was disastrous, and said so. Knowing what he did about the D'laians he was certain that a more aggressive, pre-emptive response was required. He would have liked to see all the D'laians on board disarmed and captive before either one of the fleets arrived. 

Typho had refused. He wasn't willing to take the necessary risks with so many civilians on board. 

_If Obi-Wan were here they would do everything his way, _Anakin thought resentfully. But he kept quiet after that and resigned himself to a role as babysitter. He resolved not to speak up again.

Typho was very surprised when Anakin did not argue about his post assignment. _The Senator really must have really given it to him, _he thought. _He'll think twice before overstepping his boundaries again. _

_* * * * *_

Anakin's last task in the little time remaining before the crucial meeting resumed was to escort Vespé and Balé to the Queen's staterooms. Typho had determined that they would be safest there.

Balé threw herself at him the moment she saw him. 

He could feel her anxiety. _Poor little one_, he thought, _this is not the first time she has been through something like this._ He squatted down on the floor in front of her so that they could see eye to eye.

"Don't worry," Anakin said. "Nothing bad will happen. Not this time."

"Will you stay with us?" Balé asked shyly, holding him around the neck. He could feel her unquestioning trust flow between them. It touched a deep, deep hunger in Anakin and made it very difficult to maintain the layers of icy shielding he had wrapped himself in since leaving Padmé. He thought if he stayed with her any longer he would crack.

"I can't," he said, gently disengaging himself from her and standing up, "but I will be nearby. Don't worry."

Anakin brought the girls to the stateroom, handed them over to Dormé and left for his assigned post without a backward glance.

* * * * *

Captain Typho stood in front of the door to the large conference room and checked his timepiece. On cue a veiled figure appeared in the corridor, accompanied by her ever-present Jedi alter ego. Typho nodded and disappeared into the maintenance duct just before the D'laian delegation arrived from the other direction.

Nothing made a D'laian warrior happier than conquest. For the members of the delegation on the Nubian Yacht the promise of victory was almost enough to make up for the endless, tedious hours of negotiations they had to endure for the past weeks. Now it was just a matter of settling the score.

Anakin could feel their pleasure like warm waves. He took note of the fact that neither Wolan nor his posse had joined their delegation in the room. A quick head count came to five D'laians and five on the Nubian side, including him. And of course Typho, hidden above.

Anakin expected the D'laians to be armed. Their elaborate clothing would certainly provide some convenient hiding places for weapons.

_This is a bad plan_, he thought.

The D'laian Foreign Minister opened the meeting. 

"We have consulted with our leaders. The sovereign government of D'lai cannot accept your proposal."

"Then we have nothing more to discuss," the Nubian delegation leader responded firmly. "I declare these negotiations to be officially ended."

"That may be, Minister," his D'laian counterpart said with open delight, "but it is our duty to inform you that this is not the end of our association." He surveyed the room with what on D'lai must have passed for a beneficent gaze. To the Nubians it looked predatory. "I am afraid that our position has changed. It is our view that an association with Naboo is in our planet's interests. However, that association must and will be of our own devising."

He rose. All the members of his delegation rose with him.

"Your ship is being boarded as we speak, and our fleet has arrived. I am afraid you are all now our prisoners until we arrive on Naboo."

The veiled figure stood up.

"I think not, Minister," she said firmly, and touched the COM link that lay on the table by her hand.

Every last one of the D'laians grinned. 

The delegation leader shook his head happily and took out a weapon that was probably a blaster. It was hard to tell because of its showy design. The remainder of his party followed suit. "Communications have been blocked, I'm afraid, Senator. Both internal and external."

The D'laians had obviously been busy. But Typho had heard that, Anakin guessed, and was on his way to doing something about it.

_This was completely unnecessary, _Anakin thought. _We should have dealt with them all before this. _He stretched out his awareness. There were more D'laians in the corridor outside the conference room. They were clustered so he couldn't get an accurate count. He was beginning to seethe with impatience although his impassive demeanor hid it creditably.

He hated playing out this farce. It was beneath his dignity. _Ten seconds, _Anakin thought. _Maybe twelve. I could get all five of them._

"Where do you intend to hold us?" asked the veiled figure. "This is a diplomatic vessel, not a military one."

The D'laian waved his blaster. "In the Salon. Now." _Wonderful_, Anakin thought. _We can sit in the Salon and wait to be rescued. We could even drink tea while we're waiting._

The conference room door opened and as the Nubians filed out of the room the D'laians who had been waiting in the corridor searched each captive for weapons.

Anakin was the last out. He had taken care to wear his cloak, which at least partially hid his light saber, but hoped fervently that someone would attempt to take it from him. The D'laians unfortunately had the sense to approach him cautiously. No one touched him.

"Hand over your light sword, Jedi," one of them demanded. 

Anakin looked at him levelly. "You must be joking."

Another D'laian, probably a superior officer, said, "Hand it over, Jedi!  You are our prisoner."

"No," Anakin said dismissively, brushing past him to follow the Nubian delegation. He lagged behind them just enough to make sure he had room to move if he needed it.

The two who eventually did try to grab him flew backwards knocking over two more of their comrades in the process.

Anakin turned around, hand on saber hilt, longing for one of them to try to shoot him. He was spoiling for a fight.

"I am not part of your dispute. I am going along with your little charade here in order to ensure the safety of the others," he said pointedly. "Now, don't ask me again." And he turned his back on them to follow the Nubians into the Salon. Perhaps because of his stunt with Wolan's thrown sword that morning, no blaster bolts followed him. 

It was intensely disappointing.

The Salon was filling with people. Anakin took note of who was missing:  Wolan and his posse of three; Typho, of course; the small group whom Anakin had sequestered in the Queen's stateroom; and the Nubian flight crew. The D'laians were obviously conducting the same head count. Many of the Nubians were looking out the view port, where a few specks that must be D'laian ships could just be seen. 

Anakin wondered just how they were going to try to deal with him. They wouldn't tolerate the presence of an armed Jedi for long no matter how neutral he claimed to be. He stayed close to his charge, watching the D'laians who were watching him. Doing nothing made him feel like exploding.

Suddenly a gasp and a cheer went up from the Naboo in the Salon.

Perfectly framed in the center of the view port, a huge Republic Military Cruiser appeared surrounded by a fleet of smaller vessels. 

The Chancellor had been as good as his word. 

Anakin felt a rush of excitement and pride. It really was a magnificent ship. He could imagine the activity on board her right about now – troops being mustered to transports, pilots scrambling to their fighters. He longed to be part of it. By nature he was active, aggressive, always in forward motion. Ten years of Jedi training still hadn't stamped out the deep-seated urge to take matters into his own hands and to change them for the better. He imagined the pleasure of handling his own fighter…

A hand on his arm brought him abruptly back to the here and now. He realized that he had allowed his thoughts to drift for a few moments and felt ashamed. It was inexcusable. In his mind's eye Obi-Wan was glaring at him.

"Where is Wolan?" asked Sabé, for of course it was she under the veil. The Naboo were dedicated to the decoy method of protecting public figures. 

It was only when Anakin reached out to find Wolan's Force signature, which he knew well by now, that he suddenly realized what they were up to. _Idiot. I should never have been daydreaming…_

"Arm yourselves," he snapped to Sabé. "Secure the Salon." 

A ripple went through the crowd when he abruptly activated his light saber and advanced toward the armed D'laians at the door.

"Move," he demanded, compelling them with the Force. Two of them actually did step backwards and try to get out of his way. The rest Anakin shoved aside while deflecting the blaster bolts that went off as they fell. By the time the Naboo security guards rushed the D'laians he was sprinting down the corridor toward the Queen's Staterooms.


	10. Chapter 10 Hostages

**Chapter 10. Hostages**

On the D'laian battle cruiser Darth Tyrannus waited patiently in the command center, observing the panorama that the computer screens laid out before him. 

The Republican fleet had arrived and was holding its position. The Yacht would shortly be under the control of his old friends, the D'laians, who cared far more about personal gain than about civil war. They could have Naboo, for all he cared – if they could defeat the Republican fleet. It was of no importance to him. He did not intend to remain to find out.

Of more interest to him was the prospect that his enemy would play directly into his hands. He had probed every part of him and thought he understood him well.

'_Keep your enemies close…_' the Jedi had always taught. This enemy was too close.

There could be only two: a Master and an apprentice.

He was not about to allow himself to be replaced. Not now.

The boy had to go.

*** * * * * **

Anakin came too late. Two of Padmé's security guards lay dead in the quiet, luxurious rooms. One was slumped by the door. The other had evidently fallen from the hatch in the bedroom ceiling. Both had their throats cut.

_A silent death_, Anakin thought. The sensors had been deactivated. 

Everyone else was gone. There were signs of struggle; chairs were overturned. The pale blue veil Padmé had flung onto one of them the last time he saw her lay crumpled on the floor. He sent the Force surging through the ship. It directed him toward the bridge. But which way? The D'laians had gained access from two entrances at once; it was plausible that they would have left in two groups. _Even a sorcerer can't be in two places at once_, he thought bitterly.

Sensing life in the duct directly above Anakin decided on the high road and hurled himself into the maintenance duct above the sitting room. The third guard lay crumpled inside the duct by the opening. Anakin sent him some healing energy and dropped his cloak over him before making his way along the tube toward the prow of the vessel. 

He heard blaster fire ahead and sped up, moving as fast as he could on his knees and forearms. Rounding a bend he saw that the remainder of the duct was empty, so he let himself down through the next hatch. He found himself in the empty galley, and crept toward the corridor that led to the front of the ship. 

There was more blaster fire. Anakin reached out to locate Typho and followed his Force signature. He was close. They converged in front of the bridge door, which was closed and showed signs of blaster fire. Typho was there, blaster in hand.

"Which way in?" Anakin asked shortly.

"Only through that door. The ducts end out here."

Anakin took out his light saber to sear through it. Typho restrained him. 

"They have them all – Senator Amidala. Dormé and Vespé. The little girl."

"I know."

"He says they'll kill them if we try to break through."

"He won't." Anakin felt certain he knew exactly what Wolan wanted, and he was through accepting advice. Wolan wanted hostages, and he wanted to bait the Jedi with them.

"Sabé and your people are taking over the Salon," Anakin said shortly to Typho as he began to tackle the door. "They'll probably need your help."

The Security Chief wasn't ready to be dismissed by the likes of Anakin.

"Don't!" commanded Typho.

"There's a wounded man in the ducts above the Queen's stateroom." The heavy metal was beginning to yield.

"You're endangering the hostages!" Typho hissed. 

"I know exactly what I'm doing," Anakin said, already halfway through. He was not interested in having any further conversations about it. His focus was total. The door was beginning to glow red as the light saber cut through it with white heat.  It took him a few minutes to cut a hatch into the heavy blast door. As he had expected, he was not fired upon when he crawled through it, leaving Typho to make his own choices about what to do next. Anakin could feel how badly Wolan wanted him there.

The bridge was as generous as all the other spaces on the luxury yacht, and at the moment it was dimly lit. Anakin stood in front of the door, his weapon sizzling with pale blue light, reaching out with his senses while his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

The men in the pilot's seats were D'laian. It wasn't clear what had happened to the Naboo flight crew. Padmé and her Handmaidens were each held by a member of the Warlord's ubiquitous posse far to Anakin's left. Wolan stood at his far right holding Balé around the shoulders and neck with one arm and with a dagger to her throat. It was obvious who had been doing all of the cutting.

The only possible reason he had to take the child hostage and hold her that way was to goad the Jedi who had taken an interest in her.

"You wanted me," Anakin stated in an ice-cold voice that arose from his equally icy feelings. "Here I am." Except for the constant mental mapping of the space and the energies within it that always went on in his trained mind, his attention was focused on Wolan alone. He allowed no thoughts to linger on the others. He noticed that the ship was now headed toward the D'laian fleet.

"You're very predictable," Wolan sneered from the far side of the bridge. 

"Let the hostages go and deal with me directly."

Wolan laughed. "The Senator and the others are a necessary part of our plans. You are a bonus."

Anakin suspected he was a bit more than that. Something about Anakin's presence on the ship had aroused the D'laians from the very beginning. He wanted to know why. 

Balé began to whimper softly. Before Anakin could say anything Padmé's voice came from the rear corner.

"I didn't know that D'laian warriors make hostages out of defenseless children. I'm the one who is more useful to you. Let her go and keep me."

Wolan laughed. "Oh, I will keep you. Judging from your rescue force, you're more of a prize than we thought." His voice became harder. "But the child stays."

"I'm not the prize, " Padmé's voice said. "The Republic is. It doesn't matter what happens to me. The Senate's response will be the same."

By this time Anakin had finished going over his options. Twice. He didn't much like any of them. Wolan had known perfectly well that separating the captives increased the risk that someone would get hurt if Anakin tried to free them. More importantly, he had understood that the Jedi would hesitate to take those risks.

For his part, Anakin knew that the D'laian would slit a throat as soon as talk.

"What do you want?" Anakin asked.

"I want you to stay right where you are," Wolan said. Then, to his pilot, "How long?"

"Ten minutes. Maybe twelve," the man answered. Through the view screen the D'laian fleet was looming closer.

_He doesn't want Padmé, _Anakin thought suddenly. _He wants me. _The crafty D'laians had found a way of capturing a Jedi that had a much better chance of succeeding than mere physical restraints. And he had walked straight into their trap.

"I thought you wanted to get rid of me," Anakin said.

"I will," Wolan replied. "Believe me, I will."

Anakin tried to reach out with the Force to find out who or what was waiting for him on the D'laian fleet. He found nothing that made any sense: a kind of darkness, perhaps, that hovered around the edges of his awareness. The Force whispered to him but he could not understand what it was saying. Anakin decided he was not going to wait to find out. Whatever took place had to end here. Reaching across the abyss between himself and Padmé he lowered a few layers of shielding and tried to get her attention.

_Get down._

She was right there, as though she had been waiting. 

_It's about time._

_Get down!_

Anakin felt, rather than saw, her twist out of her captor's hold and hurl herself to the floor. With his saber arm outstretched it still took him four steps to get to the D'laian who was aiming his blaster at her. Anakin lunged and the man fell. Padmé scrambled for the blaster that dropped from his hand. 

Dormé fought her way out of her captor's grip with a viciousness that bespoke solid training. Padmé shot him as soon as her handmaiden managed to throw herself forward. At almost the same moment, Balé screamed. She was out of Anakin's reach at the opposite side of the room. Wolan's arm was tightening around her neck and his dagger was under her chin.

Unhesitatingly Anakin went for Wolan's throat. From across the bridge, using the Force alone, Anakin grasped the D'laian's throat and pressed with all the rage that had been building up inside of him. Wolan's head fell back and he began to gasp.

"_Anakin_!"

_Get Vespé, _he shot back, moving toward Wolan while refusing to let him go.

Wolan loosened his hold on Balé.

Anakin still pressed harder. He heard a blaster fire behind him but did not let go.

The little girl slid to the floor. So did Wolan. 

Balé scrambled up and ran to her Jedi.

Wolan would never get up again.

Anakin shoved the little girl behind him as one of the pilots turned around to fire at him. 

"Don't!" Anakin commanded in a voice that was augmented by the Force. The pilot hesitated just enough that Anakin could reach him with the tip of his weapon. The man froze.

"Get out. Both of you."

Threatened by a light sword and Padmé's blaster, and with Wolan and his posse down, both men decided to comply. They sprinted for the blast door and when it could not be opened, squeezed themselves through the small hatch that the Jedi had cut. From the sound of it Typho greeted them on the other side of the door. 

Balé was sobbing and clutching Anakin by this time. Dormé rushed forward to retrieve her but she screamed and refused to let go of him. He picked her up and she attached herself to his neck with a stranglehold. With the child holding on for dear life Anakin sat down in the pilot's seat and began to re-set the Yacht's course.

"We need a pilot in here," he said shortly, never taking his eyes off the controls. He made the necessary adjustments with one hand while holding the child with the other, at the same time sending tendrils of the Force to soothe her.

Padmé also tried to remove Balé from Anakin's neck, but with equally little success.

"It's all right," he said, not taking his eyes from his work. "Leave her. Just find a pilot."

The Yacht banked sharply and before long the Republican fleet appeared in the view screen. Anakin headed straight for it. Typho appeared through the hatch, squeezing a little and cursing under his breath. After a brief consultation with the Senator he sat down next to Anakin in the co-pilot's seat. 

"The only communications we have are with the D'laian fleet. Everything else is still jammed."

Anakin accelerated as much as he dared. 

"It's all right," Anakin said. "They know we're coming."

Typho frowned at him. But it wasn't long before a Republican fighter wing caught up with the Yacht and formed an escort.

The child's sobs had died down but her grip had not.

  
"We have a ship full of spiteful prisoners," Typho said. "There are constant skirmishes. I'd like to offload them onto that cruiser but we can't communicate with the fleet."   
  
"If we head straight for them they'll pick us up," Anakin said.   
  
Typho gave up second-guessing the Jedi. "Right," he said. "I'll take over until the pilots get here. You go back and make those D'laians settle down."   
  
_Hah_, Anakin thought. _Now he thinks I'm useful_.  He eased himself up and carried the little girl to the blast door.

"The only way out is to crawl through there," he said gently. "You go first and I'll be right behind you."

He heard Padmé say, behind him, "Dormé is already out there. She'll catch you." In order to reach out to Balé Anakin had let down much of his defensive shielding. Now he felt Padmé's presence like fire.

Eventually they coaxed the child out of the hatch and into the secured corridor, and the adults followed. Dormé had managed to hold onto Balé for the moment, and there were deep breaths all around.

Padmé spoke to the child gently but firmly.

"I need to speak with the Jedi now. Go with Dormé and he will come to see you later."

There was something about her tone that did not invite argument. Balé subsided.

Padmé turned to Anakin and looked him in the eye.

"Come with me." She turned and walked down the corridor.

He followed her.

* * * * *

Once he saw the Naboo ship return to the Republican fleet with its fighter escort, Darth Tyrannus made a quiet departure from the D'laian vessel.

His Master's plan was obviously working.

His own, however, required further thought. If he did nothing Sidious would sooner or later force him into another confrontation with the boy. It was something he wanted to avoid. The boy was not yet fully trained, but the Force was stronger with him than it had any right to be.

He had to dispose of him soon, before his Master got his hands on him.

Otherwise he was doomed.

* * * * *

Padmé headed for the small conference room, which at the moment was likely to be the only private place on the ship. 

When Anakin had entered she locked the door and turned to look at him.

There was a long silence. 

Not taking her eyes off his, Padmé said, "You did it again. You saved all of our lives."

"I will always protect you," Anakin said. "No matter what." 

"Doesn't anything ever frighten you?" Padmé wondered out loud, not certain how to reach out to him. He seemed to be speaking to her across a great distance.

"Yes," he said with his usual heart-wrenching honesty. "Losing people I love." He stayed where he was – awkward, stiff, but with fire in his eyes.

That did it. With desperation comes inspiration. 

Padmé crossed the room to him with those four or five steps that she should have taken earlier in her stateroom, took hold of his leather tunic both fists and shoved him against the wall. Hard.

Surprised and more than willing, Anakin let it happen.

"Pay attention," she said, not more than two inches from his lips. "I am not afraid of you. And you are very easy to love."

Her pulse pounded in her throat while she waited to see what he would do.

Not more than a couple of heartbeats passed before he met her lips with a hunger that took her breath away. As he gradually let down the rest of his defenses their embrace became as passionate as it was healing.

The ache Padmé had been carrying around since he left her disappeared.

"Padmé," he said when he could speak again, pouring all of his love and relief into the single word. 

"Don't leave me again," she whispered, still holding on to him tightly.

"I thought you wanted me to."

"No. Never. I'm sorry for everything I said..."

Anakin cut her off with another breath-defying kiss. He was mindfully focusing on the here and now.

As always when Anakin was alone with her he let go of his mental shielding. It was the only time that he was completely open, vulnerable, and wholly himself. The unleashed Force surged around them and through them like a torrent as they clung to one another in the quiet room. Padmé had the oddest sensation of the physical barriers and boundaries between them blurring and disappearing. Padmé wondered, somewhat disjointedly, how she had ever imagined she could go on without him. Then she stopped thinking at all.

Someone knocked on the conference room door.

Padmé ignored it.

The knock came again, more firmly. 

"My Lady!" It was a security guard. "Captain Typho needs Jedi Skywalker in the Salon!"

Padmé clutched him tightly. She wasn't ready to relinquish him just now, for any reason. It was Anakin who reluctantly pulled away from her.

"No…" she protested, feeling torn in two.

"You know I have to go," he whispered, and moved toward the conference room door. He was still protecting her – this time from being discovered.

Padmé was beyond being able to compose herself. Anakin had no such difficulty. As soon as he opened the door he once again looked every inch the Jedi – remote, self-contained and focused. To Padmé it felt as though a drawbridge had gone up, leaving her on the far side. She was beginning to ache again.

"Tell him I'm on my way," Anakin told the guard.

Padmé took a deep, deep breath.

_Anakin_, she called out again just to see whether he would hear her. He looked up and smiled.

_Here_, he replied, as clearly as if he had spoken. 

Confident now that she could reach him in this way, Padmé grudgingly let him go.


	11. Chapter 11 Crossroads

  


**Chapter 11. Crossroads**

The Senate had a vast new clone army but not enough commanding officers. Seasoned soldiers and new recruits alike were pouring into Coruscant daily from around the Galaxy for processing and training. But the war did not wait and commanders had to be found for the interim. Until the new cadre of career officers could be qualified and put into action, the Jedi Council faced regular demands that Jedi Masters be taken from their duties and given temporary command positions. It was a source of great displeasure to the Council. Only three days before Master Andros had been pulled away from an important training mission to command a fleet in the Naboo Sector. 

With Tec Andros in command, it was a simple matter for Obi-Wan Kenobi to obtain permission to board the Galactic Cruiser even as it faced off against the D'laians. Making his way from the vast docking bay to the command center along identical, brightly lit corridors filled with identical, unnaturally quiet troopers he had the eerie feeling that he was the only living thing inside of a vast machine. Robbed of their individuality and their will, the clone troopers left odd Force signatures that had more in common with those of plants than of sentient beings. Even animals had more individuality.

_Of course, _Obi-Wan thought, sifting through his impressions. _The Force does not love a machine. _He pulled his cloak around him more tightly as though it could ward off the deep inner chill he felt in those surroundings.

It came as a profound relief to find Tec, who with his lopsided face, rough Jedi robes and powerful Force signature was a warm and vibrant presence in an otherwise sinister place.

"What is it about this Sector?" Tec Andros asked his friend as they embraced. "First me, now you. I didn't think the Council could spare us. These D'laians really don't look like that much of a threat to me. They have hesitated to engage us so far." But for the robes, the brawny Corellian who was now Supreme Commander of the Fleet looked more like a pirate than a Jedi Master but he was a legendary fighter and strategist. 

"I'm really here as a visitor," Obi-Wan said. "I was on my way to Naboo to meet my Padawan, when I heard about this little confrontation." 

Tec raised his eyebrows. "And you paused in your journey to join us in our battle?  That was kind of you, but I think we can manage." He gazed out the view screen and then checked the computer array. "In fact, there may not be one. There was a clear shift in their intentions around the time our fighters picked up the Yacht."

Obi-Wan smiled. That was something no computer array could have told him.

"My Padawan is on the Queen's Yacht."

"Skywalker?  That Padawan?" Tec looked at him doubtfully. He didn't envy Obi-Wan his responsibility for the so-called Chosen One. Skywalker, he remembered from a few training missions, was a handful. Given only two options the boy always created a third and a fourth, usually with some kind of mishap attached….

"The very one. Why?"

"Well, there is certainly a strong Jedi presence on board. They lost their communications but we managed all right." He looked down at data readout. "We have just brought the Yacht on board, in fact. Do you want to go down?"

"No," Obi-Wan said. "Not now."

Tec looked up from his screen. 

Obi-Wan felt called upon to explain.

"This is actually his mission. He doesn't know I'm here."

Tec grinned. "The old stalking Master trick. Well done. How are you going to keep him from sensing your presence?"

_Quite easily, actually_, Obi-Wan thought with some pain. "I have my ways."

"I imagine you do," Tec remarked sympathetically. "It can't be easy to have that one as a Padawan."

"Oh," said Obi-Wan neutrally. "We have our ups and downs."

Tec heard and felt his way through the comment.

"Well," he said, hoping to cheer his friend up, "He seems to have done his job on this one. The Senator is safe. The Nubians lost a few, and so did the D'laians. They're bringing in the rest as prisoners for us to deal with."

"Then if you're bringing Senator Amidala back to Naboo, my Padawan's mission is finished."

"Actually," Tec said, "I heard the Senator wants to continue on to Naboo on the Yacht with just a fighter escort."

Obi-Wan became very thoughtful. This was a perfect opportunity to retrieve Anakin. Then why did it feel so important to avoid confronting him right now? Anakin was his Padawan; it was his duty to come where and when he was told. By all his rights and duties as Master he should march to the docking bay, reclaim the boy, and go back home. But powerful feelings told him to wait. Wait. He had long since learned to trust them. The reason he needed to wait became obvious once he accepted it.

If he confronted Anakin now, he would lose.

In a lifetime in the Jedi Temple Obi-Wan had never seen an attachment like Anakin had with Senator Amidala. If he was honest with himself, as he always tried to be, he didn't understand it. For Obi-Wan the Order had always met all of his needs. Like Tec, for example. They had not seen one another for more than a year, yet they were completely attuned: brothers in the truest sense of the word. As different as they were, they were deeply aligned on the values and goals of a life of service. It was fulfilling and enriching and any other existence was beyond imagining. They could entrust their lives to one another without a second thought.

But Anakin had always struggled to find his place in the Order. He tried so hard. Obi-Wan's heart wrenched at the memory of the little boy he inherited from his own Master making desperate efforts to fit in, to obey, to be like everyone else. But there had always seemed to be a contrary set of forces inside of him that made everything more difficult. He was temperamental, mercurial. He questioned everything. He always seemed to be seeking and longing for things outside of himself and outside of the world he inhabited. 

Somehow the Senator had reached something in the boy that the Order could not. The resulting conflict within him was devastating not only to Anakin but to everyone connected with him. 

To make matters worse, his divided loyalties were making him untrustworthy. It was beginning to be clear that, if it came down to a choice between the Senator and one of Anakin's Jedi brethren, his Padawan would choose the Senator. And that alone made the attachment very problematic indeed.

No. If he went down to the docking bay and demanded that Anakin return with him, and if the boy refused, it would widen the rift between them. If his Padawan bolted and fled the Order now he would be set loose on the Galaxy with all of his devastating skills and equally destructive lack of control.

The dark dread that haunted him was becoming stronger and stronger as he came closer to his Padawan. All he could think of was to find a way of reaching Anakin's heart and mind, and to persuade him to come back to the Temple. No matter how much he struggled against it, Obi-Wan was certain that with the strength of the Jedi Order behind him, Anakin could be made safe.

_Safe from what?_

The Jedi Knight didn't know. He just sensed that there was danger around his Padawan. And it was his job to help him.

Obi-Wan had been silent so long that Tec Andros went back to what he was doing. He was content to allow his comrade and brother to take all the time he wanted to mull things over.

"Tec," Obi-Wan finally said to the Corellian's back, "I'm not going to interfere. I'll let my Padawan complete his mission. But I would like to talk to you for a while. I have a number of questions…."

Master Andros turned around and smiled slightly. "Don't we all. There are a lot of things here that don't make sense. Have you heard about the defense force that's planned for Naboo?"

* * * * *

All the Naboo aboard the Queen's Yacht were relieved when the last of the D'laians was transferred to the Galactic Cruiser, but none more than Padmé. She badly wanted them off her ship and out of her life – not least because they were a constant reminder of her poor decision-making. But there was something else about the whole incident that disturbed her – something she could not put her finger on.

"_I'm tired," _she thought, still suffering from a nagging ache that refused to get better. "_I need time to rest and think this through."_

No sooner did the Senator from Naboo feel as though she could breathe again then a message arrived from Coruscant and she once again found herself facing the Chancellor's image.

"_I am so grateful to find you safe, Senator,"_ the image began.

"Thank you for your prompt assistance, Chancellor," she replied. It was fortunate that such a large force was available on short notice."

_"Fortunate indeed, Senator, but good fortune cannot be repeated at will. We must take steps to safeguard Naboo."_

"For obvious reasons we have not yet had the time to analyze fully the D'laian threat." Padmé replied. "But we are give to understand that they have not engaged our fleet, and may not at all. I suspect that they are merely bullies, Chancellor. I'm not sure that we will require further protection."

_"I disagree quite strongly, Senator. It is not merely a question of the D'laians, but of their associations. If they are indeed allied with the Separatists, Naboo is in great danger and will be until this conflict has been resolved in our favor."_

Padmé was beginning to get a headache. It began in her temples and was rapidly spreading, making it difficult to think.

"What kind of protection are you talking about, Chancellor?"

_"I have allocated a substantial fighting force to take up permanent residence on Naboo, effective immediately."_

"What?" It felt as though there was a vise around Padmé's temples. "That's absurd. We can take care of ourselves for the time being. If the war should move into this Sector, we can call upon you for assistance again, like every other system. We don't need to be singled out like this. I honestly don't believe the D'laians pose that much of a threat."

_"You must be very tired from your recent ordeal, Senator. I suggest we discuss this at another time, when you are feeling more yourself."_

Padmé wanted to fight his suggestion, but the pain was interfering with her ability to formulate her thoughts. 

"Chancellor, I do not agree with this action. This conversation is not finished."

_"Be well, Senator,"_ the image said distantly, and then flickered off. 

Padmé collapsed forward into the table in the small conference room where she had been working, and cradled her head in her hands. 

Suddenly the pain began to ebb away. Even the ache disappeared.

_Better?_

She raised her head to see Anakin leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

The silent flood of gratitude he received in return made him smile. 

Captain Typho pushed past him into the room. Anakin ambled in after him.

"I think you were too efficient in re-establishing our external communications, Captain," Padmé said to her Security Chief as he sat down. She gave him a brief summary of her disturbing conversation with the Chancellor.

"I think it's a good idea," Anakin ventured. "The Chancellor is just trying to keep Naboo – and you – safe."

Padmé had a great deal to say on the subject but didn't want to get into it right now. All she wanted was to rest. And think.

Typho was thoughtful. "Perhaps we should take the Commander up on his offer to bring us back to Naboo."

"No." Padmé was firm on this point. "That would mean waiting until this thing is resolved. I want to get home. We will be fine. The Fleet stands between us and the D'laians." She looked from Typho to Anakin. "Where is Sabé?  I haven't seen her all day."

"She's talking to all the civilians on board, "Typho said. "Bringing them up to date. Calming them down."

Padmé sighed deeply. "I don't know what I would do without all of you." She looked pointedly at Anakin to make certain he understood that he was included in that remark. He smiled slightly. He knew, all right.

Pushing back her chair, Padmé announced, "I'm going to retire. Let me know when we are underway. I will communicate our thanks to the Fleet Commander from the stateroom."

Captain Typho stood as well. "I'll make the arrangements." He looked at Anakin, who still lounged in his chair. 

"I have to see someone," Anakin said. 

It was Padmé's turn to smile. She was sure she knew whom he meant. 

* * * * *

It wasn't long before Anakin brought a much happier Balé to Padmé and transferred the little girl to her arms. She went willingly but never took her eyes off of her rescuer.

"Balé would like to stay with you." 

Reaching for the child, Padmé realized with surprise that Anakin sounded as weary as she felt. It was easy to take his strength for granted and to forget that he ever suffered from tiredness, or hunger or any of those other all-too-human weaknesses. 

He actually sat down in a chair rather than standing or prowling the room as usual. Rubbing his hands over his face, he said, "Captain Typho said to tell you that the internal COM links will not be back up before we get to Naboo. The D'laians didn't just disconnect them, they smashed the junctions. But the ship is secure and we expect to arrive on Naboo in a few hours." 

He yawned. "I think I need to sleep for a little while."

"Can I put him to bed?" asked Balé, afraid that he was going to disappear from her sight. 

Padmé thought for a minute and then whispered to Balé. The little girl nodded and ran into the bedroom only to emerge again dragging Dormé behind her.

"Can you make up a pallet for Anakin in here?" Padmé asked. "Balé won't let him out of her sight."

Dormé raised her eyebrows, but nodded and did as she was bidden. Padmé in the meantime pushed Anakin into the fresher, handing him a garment of some kind as she did so.

When he emerged damp and wearing a voluminous robe that could only have come from Naboo a low bed had been made for him in the corner of the sitting room. Balé went to take him by the hand and encountered the artificial fingers that peeked out from under one of the long, full sleeves. It was the first time she had seen him without gloves. She stopped and stared.

Anakin watched her to gauge her reaction, but said nothing.

"Do they hurt?" Balé breathed.

"No," said Anakin.

She kept staring at them. "Why do you have them?" She finally asked.

"I couldn't play tumble sticks or juggle without them," Anakin said, sinking down into the pallet.

Padmé, watching, bit her lip.

"Or fight," Balé said.

"Or fight," Anakin agreed.

Balé had a lot of other questions but her Jedi seemed to be fading away. Deciding that if he didn't seem bothered she wouldn't be, either, she pulled the covers over him and tucked him in as best she could.

"Mmrph," said Anakin by way of thanks, and then he was silent.

Padmé dimmed the room lights and returned to her chair, pulling Balé on to her lap. Over the child's head she said to Dormé, "I'll keep her here with me." Dormé nodded and slipped out.

"I'm good at putting people to bed," Balé said, satisfied with her effort.

"You're good at a lot of things," Padmé said, as the child snuggled onto her shoulder. "You were very brave today, and I am proud of you."

"I thought everybody was going to die, like my Mommy and Daddy," she said after a while. 

"I know," said Padmé. She had thought so, too.

She could feel Balé getting heavy in her arms as the child sank toward sleep. "If the Jedi had been there, he could have saved them," Balé whispered. She was talking about her parents.

Padmé said nothing, but stroked the child's hair. _She feels so safe with him, _she thought. _And so do I._

After a while Balé was asleep, too. 

Miraculously no longer tired, Padmé kept watch over both of them all the way home.


	12. Chapter 12 Homecomings

**Chapter 12. Homecomings**

Wherever Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo went people surrounded her. She never had less than two Handmaidens with her at all times. When traveling she was accompanied by a Security detail. She had a permanent staff in her Senate offices on Coruscant, another administrative staff in her Constituency Office on Naboo, and a personal staff attached to her official residence in the Palace in Theed. Padmé was accustomed to it. This was the way her life had been since her election as Queen more than a decade ago.

Homecoming was always a chaotic affair. This time it was even more so, if that was possible. Sabé had presented her with a schedule of meetings and an official itinerary before Padmé had even disembarked from the Yacht. A briefing for the Queen was at the top of the list.

By the time she arrived at her so-called private residence with her entourage the luggage from the Yacht had been delivered and even the spacious apartment felt crowded. People scurried around the rooms unpacking. People asked her questions. People clustered around her demanding that she make decisions, both large and small. People told her what to do and how to do it.

Padmé wasn't taking it well. The journey from Coruscant had been an ordeal and an epiphany all at once. She was sleep deprived, couldn't remember when she had last eaten, and most of all she missed Anakin so much that she wanted to cry. After having him either by her side or within immediate reach throughout the entire journey, he had disappeared once the Yacht landed and she hadn't seen him since. 

_He has only been gone for few hours_, she reminded herself.

It felt like a lifetime.

_What if he has gone back to Coruscant without saying goodbye?_

She was clearly becoming irrational. He wouldn't do that.

_What if I never see him again?_

"My Lady, are you all right?"

Sabé's worried voice broke into her obsessive thoughts.

"My Lady, you're as white as a sheet. Come over here and sit down."

Padmé sank blindly into the nearest chair. Dormé appeared as if by magic on her other side. The two Handmaidens exchanged anxious glances over her head. They noticed her rubbing her hand over her chest, as though something hurt. She didn't seem to be aware that she was doing it.

"I'm tired," Padmé said, in a small voice. "I'm terribly tired."

The Handmaidens exchanged a few whispers and took immediate action. Sabé got the unpackers working double time and managed to get most of the job done and the room cleared in record time. Dormé in the meanwhile brought her mistress some juice and something light to eat. Padmé picked at the offerings.

The administrative staff and the Queen's personal messenger were harder to deal with. They both required the Senator's full attention and commitment of time for a number of pressing issues. The Queen's messenger in particular had orders to personally escort the Senator before the Queen as soon possible.

* * * * *__

_Spend the day with me._

_Oh_, Padmé thought, not minding about the glass at all. _Is it possible?_

_Anakin?_

_Send them all away. Spend the day with me. _This one came with a sense impression that very quickly brought the color back into the Senator's face.

_Where are you?_

_I love you. You love me. Spend the day with me._

This boldness was a new side of Anakin. Padmé could only suppose that she had finally made her feelings abundantly clear.

_I want to. Oh, I want to. But I don't know how._

_Imagine that you knew for certain that we only had this one day. What would you do?_

* * * * *

Sabé was observing her Mistress very, very closely and took note of the change in her expression and her sudden color.

She was just negotiating with the Queen's messenger when she heard a crash. Padmé had apparently dropped her crystal juice glass on the marble floor. The splinters went everywhere.

Sabé noticed that Padmé hardly acknowledged the staff that appeared to clear away the crystal shards. Normally she was deeply courteous to servants. Now she seemed far way somewhere.

Interesting. A few minutes before she had looked and acted ill and now the color was back in her face and her eyes were sparkling. Sabé excused herself and began discretely to search the room, looking behind curtains and inside of closets when no one was observing her. She even checked out the palatial fresher. Nothing. 

"My Lady?" Dormé asked with alarm when it took three tries to get Padmé's attention.

Having searched the entire apartment and not found what she was looking for, Sabé slipped through the tall glass-paneled doors that linked the living room with the expansive terrace. The late morning sun was hot and bright and for a moment she couldn't see anything. Then as her eyes adjusted she spotted Anakin sunning himself on the broad stone balustrade in a far corner of the terrace, propped up against the vine-covered wall of the Palace. Sabé walked to the edge of the terrace and looked down a long way. She didn't even want to think about how he had gotten there.

Anakin was sitting comfortably with one long leg folded under him and the other dangling down on the outside of the warm stone railing. He was picking seedpods off the thick eliril vine that covered the wall and throwing them idly but accurately at nearby treetops. 

Sabé walked over to him.

"I knew you had to be around here somewhere," she said. "She's dropping things and going pink."

Anakin smiled and lobbed another seedpod at the tallest of the ancient trees that stood in the grove below. The crown was so lofty it reached higher than the terrace on which he sat.

"I'd like to know just what your intentions are toward her," Sabé said directly. 

Anakin stopped what he was doing and looked Sabé full in the face.

"To love her and cherish her until the day I die and to make her happy," he replied, just as directly.

Sabé swallowed, taken aback. "I thought you were just a fling."

"Why?" Anakin asked. "Does she have those regularly?"

"N…no," Sabé stammered. "Never, actually."

Anakin lobbed another seedpod. It hit a high branch with a satisfying smack.

"Then why would you think she is having one now?"

"Well for one thing," Sabé retorted, recovering, "you're not exactly available, are you? I mean, you're still a Jedi, right?"

Anakin didn't answer, but the next seedpod hit its target with enough force to burst.

"Do you think you can help her get rid of all those people?"

Sabé became indignant. "I cover for her," she said, "when it won't do any harm. Not for you. Not any more."

Two more seedpods hit their targets in rapid succession. "Whether you cover for her or for me, it's the same thing," Anakin said. "We're going to be together."

Sabé glowered at him. "I disapprove of this. It can only end in misery."

The vine was rapidly becoming denuded of seedpods within arm's reach. Anakin settled back on his perch with his hands folded over his stomach and closed his eyes, effectively shutting Sabé out. He could not have expressed his unwillingness to discuss the subject more clearly.

It wasn't long before there was a stifled scream from the apartment and Dormé's voice cried out, "My Lady!" Other voices rose in a hubbub. Sabé sprinted inside to find that her mistress had evidently fainted.

_That sneaking son of the seventh pit_, Sabé thought. _Wait till I get my hands on him._

_* * * * *_

Anakin had to wait nearly another half hour before the commotion died down and the Palace doctor had seen Padmé and prescribed bed rest for at least a day. He spent the time taming a small brown bird and feeding it eliril seeds from the pods that flew into his hands as needed. When the bird flew away, satisfied, he leaned back and closed his eyes again and didn't re-open them until he felt Padmé's hand slide over his chest.

"That was fun," she said. "With a little help it was even convincing."

"You didn't fall hard, did you?" he asked, pulling her onto his lap.

"No. It was fine. It scared the life out of Dormé, though." Despite the precipice below her Padmé felt completely safe as long as Anakin was there. He smelled of sunshine and fresh air and his skin was desert-hot to the touch. She arranged herself along the length of him with her head tucked under his chin and her face to the sun. His arms came around her and held her securely. She wrapped her leg around his where it rested along the balustrade. 

Gentled by the sun and the air and the rhythmic rising and falling of Anakin's chest as he breathed and the hand that caressed her hair and her cheek Padmé finally let all the worry and fear of the last few days slip away. Anakin could feel her sink into him as she relaxed.

"I was afraid you had left without saying goodbye," she finally said, sleepily.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"But you have completed your mission. I'm safely home." She shifted her position a bit and burrowed into his shoulder. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he said again.

He felt her tense.

"Don't worry," he said, stroking her back to make her relax again. "There is no point in wasting today by worrying about tomorrow. Don't think about anything else." 

"But I do worry."

The last thing Anakin wanted was to think about going back. He had finally made enough headway in his unceasing battle for Padmé's heart that she was now happily soaking up sun in his arms instead of meeting her obligations. He didn't want her worrying about anything. Not now. Not today. What he really wanted was her undivided attention for a change.

"You obviously need something else to think about."

He sent her a suggestion that instantly raised her pulse rate and made her breath catch.

"Where do you learn these things?" Padmé mumbled from his shoulder. "Is that part of Jedi training?"

Anakin smiled to himself. "In a way. They teach us to pay attention. It works for everything."

"I'll say," Padmé mumbled again.

He was satisfied that his strategy had worked. She wasn't thinking about his leaving any more. 

"Why are you so different?" Padmé asked after a while. 

"I'm not different."

"You are. You're…not hesitant."

"Oh, that." There was a warm, lazy pause. Padmé waited drowsily for him to answer.

"I know you love me."

"I did before. What changed?"

"Well, now I really know. I…saw it." He gathered her closer and leaned his cheek on her hair.

"How?"

"The last time I kissed you. After… you know."

"I know."

Neither one of them wanted to think about the ugly incident on the bridge of the Yacht.

"For a moment we…merged. I saw everything. I know you. I know how you feel about me. There is nothing to doubt."

There was a peaceful silence, and then Padmé said, "If you know all this about me, what do I know about you?"

Anakin closed his eyes as if trying to remember every detail of something. "That I'm the missing piece of you. The thing you have been longing for but didn't even have a name for. The one absolute…he paused, searching…unequivocal love of your life."

* * * * *

Padmé shifted slightly in an attempt to make sure that every part of her was touching, or being touched by Anakin. It was bliss, lying here in the sun and being held, body and soul.

He really had seen into her heart.

"How do you know that you are the one?" she teased, wanting to continue this sunny, blissful conversation just to enjoy the sound of his voice.

"Because that's how you feel, and I can sense your feelings."

_Maybe that is all any of us really wants, _Padmé thought. _To be seen. To be truly known._

"And you?" she asked after a while, basking in the pleasure of every stolen moment, "If I had your ability to perceive feelings, what would I find in you?"

"You would understand that you are the center of my universe," he said reverently. "Everything begins with you and ends with you." 

Padmé may not have possessed Jedi perceptions, but the surge of his heartbeat under her cheek and the tremor in his fingers as he stroked her hair spoke to her as vividly of his feelings as music and textures speak to the blind. 

_Enough conversation, _she decided. She slid off his lap and began pulling him towards the terrace doors. 

"That merging thing has possibilities," she said, as he swung his leg over the balustrade and let himself be pulled.

"You haven't seen anything yet," he replied, as they disappeared into the cool, now mercifully quiet apartment, bringing the sun's warmth with them.

* * * * * 

There are moments, Obi-Wan thought, when everything is in perfect balance. The past is past…the future has not yet arrived, and we can just stay in between them – quiet, waiting, whole. No demands. No decisions. Just being.

_You're not meditating, _another part of his mind told him. _You are talking to yourself._

The best of these moments, he went on, ignoring his inner voice, come when you are on your way somewhere. Transition. Suspension. Nothing to do but wait.

_You're procrastinating, that's what you're doing._

Alone. No one can hold you to account. No decisions need to be made.

_Coward._

No one knows where you are. You're a tiny mote of dust in vast space, drifting among the stars.

_You're in your ship. You are on course. Idiot._

Peace. Freedom. Harmony.

_You just don't want to arrive there. You would stay out here indefinitely to avoid it._

The Universe is a meaningful whole, bound together by the Force.

_You were asked to leave it alone, but you went anyway._

Each tiny piece of the whole has its purpose and its destiny.

_You didn't tell anyone you were coming_. 

This is one of those perfect moments.

_It's cold. It's dark. And you are alone. Again._

The COM link is beeping.

_The COM link is beeping._

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and glanced at the console. Approaching Naboo. Already. He sighed and activated the link to announce his presence and get landing instructions since he was arriving without warning. For ten years he had successfully avoided coming back to this small jewel box of a planet.

He was a Jedi Knight, he reminded himself. He had a job to do. He shouldn't feel like crying.

* * * * *

Padmé's "illness" lasted the rest of that day and all of the next day and night. She remained secluded, accepting food and drink but refusing visitors of any kind except the doctor who authorized a second day of rest. To Dormé's grief and Sabé's outrage she even refused to see her Handmaidens.

"The journey and the encounter with the D'laians was quite an ordeal," Sabé said to the worried Queen through gritted teeth. "I'm certain she will be fine once she gets some rest. The Doctor said she is suffering from nervous exhaustion."

During those two days the young Jedi who had been assigned to protect the Senator on the journey that was now commonly referred to as "The D'laian Incident" was sighted here and there around Theed just often enough so that no particular connection was made between his whereabouts and the Senator's. Once he bought fruit and bread in the market. Palace staff watched him teach a little girl to climb a tree. He visited Typho in his office once, briefly, to catch up on the latest news. Most of the time no one saw him or gave him any thought. The Palace was full of people coming and going.

No one, that is, except for a lone Jedi Knight who had arrived on Naboo unannounced on the second day of the Senator's "illness". He was skilled at remaining hidden. His observation of the Senator and the young Jedi remained entirely his own business.

On the morning of the third day the Senator, looking healthy and radiant once again, briefed the Queen on her journey and kept all of her daytime appointments. 

It marked the end of her seclusion because during the short time of her confinement things had begun to change drastically on Naboo. Armored soldiers and equipment were arriving in a seemingly endless stream. The ensuing political, economic and social tensions escalated rapidly, and all the Senator's daytime hours were spent dealing with the crisis brought on by the arrival of the so-called defensive force. While she was working the young Jedi made himself scarce.

However, pleading continued fatigue, the Senator let it be known that she would not accept any dinner invitations or schedule evening meetings for the foreseeable future.

Setting those limits was the easiest thing in the world. 


	13. Chapter 13 Explorations

**Chapter 13. Explorations**

Having not set foot on Naboo for more than ten years Obi-Wan found the section of Theed near the spaceport to be nearly unrecognizable. It wasn't that the city itself had changed so much. The ancient walls were still there, as were the curving streets and spacious plazas that characterized the Nubians' gracious lifestyle. A few new buildings in the Gungan style of glittering crystalline spheres dotted the skyline here and there, and quite a few Gungans appeared among the Nubians on the streets, but those were the normal signs of change in a progressive society. 

No, the real change was that little more than two days after the Republic's standoff with the D'laians the ancient city streets were teeming with soldiers and military vehicles. The stark white of their armor and the sharp angles of their vehicles contrasted harshly with the ancient golden stones and soft lines of Naboo's old capitol city. The increased noise level was also startling. Obi-Wan remembered Theed, when not under siege, as a peaceful and quiet place punctuated more by the sound of running water, music and conversation than by marching boots and the roar of vehicles. 

Tec Andros had been right. This so-called protective force was looking more and more like an occupation army. 

It was also interesting to mull over why Tec had been assigned to the fleet in the Naboo Sector two days before the Yacht's distress call.

Obi-Wan had resolved to walk for a while, to re-acquaint himself with the City and the uniquely local ways the Force had shaped it and given it its character before tackling his immediate problem. Since at the moment he had not decided how best to proceed, his walk became longer and longer and after a while he realized that he had been circling through the city in a kind of elliptical orbit around one place.

The main hangar.

Once he became aware of the tilt in his personal center of gravity he recognized that it had been pulling him there all along. Perhaps if he was to have a chance at succeeding with the difficult task before him, there was something he had to do first.

_This won't help,_ Obi-Wan argued with himself, at a standstill in front of the massive building. It wouldn't help any more than the nights he had lain awake replaying the fateful battle with the Sith over and over again in his mind. Or countless times he had imagined different choices; different moves… moves that would have allowed him to arrive at his Master's side more quickly, or to confront his enemy more wisely. He tried to convince himself that revisiting that place would be a self-indulgent and useless detour. He had more important things to do. He needed to remain steadfastly in the here and now.

_Destiny_, he told himself firmly, _is not played out in places but between people. It belongs in the realm of forward action, not remembrance. _

His feet kept moving toward the building anyway. Some inner impulse was shoving him, hard, in that direction.

_I don't want to, _he thought ineffectually as he entered through the main doors after all.

The hangar was profoundly changed as well, and like the spaceport it was a hive of activity. It appeared that new equipment was arriving continually. Fighters were being moved around and teams of people, both Galactic troopers and Naboo, clustered around them. With the help of some light Force cloaking Obi-Wan made his way around the busy docking bay unnoticed and confronted the massive doors to the power station. 

The image of a grinning, taunting Sith standing inside that same doorway was burned into his memory. He could almost see him in the flesh. He certainly remembered the bitter tang of his hatred. And his power. 

_I've seen enough. I'm leaving now, _he thought, as he walked unwillingly through the door and toward the power station. That part of the hangar had not changed. The huge room was as noisy and steamy as ever. The catwalks bridged the spaces above the generators exactly as he remembered, and far ahead of him was the service corridor with the laser doors where he had failed his Master.

_There. I failed to save my Master. May I go now?_

Apparently not. He still kept walking.

_What do you want from me?_

He negotiated the service corridor with hardly a pause. Ten years of counting the number of steps along the catwalks in his dreams, ten years of counting the number of seconds the doors were open and the distances between them had etched that singular path in his memory.

_A bit late now, isn't it? What is the point of all this?_

By the time Obi-Wan arrived at the melting pit he was seething with frustration.

_I have already dealt with all this. I have already done my grieving. Why am I here?_

There was the pit into which his enemy disappeared.

_What am I to see here?_

Right in front of him was the place on the metal catwalk where his Master had fallen and begged him with his dying breath to train Anakin.

A breeze ruffled Obi-Wan's hair in a room that had no draughts.

_Anakin. What about Anakin?_

Qui-Gon. The Sith. Anakin. They formed a connection of sorts. But what was its significance?

Obi-Wan sank down into a seated posture with enormous reluctance. This was a miserable place to meditate, but there was nothing else he could do. He needed answers.

* * * * *

The D'laian warrior looked greedily at the small pile of Aurodium ingots on the desk. 

"Jedi are hard to kill," he said.

"Nonsense. You just have to know how. I can help you with that."

"Just the one?  There won't be any others?" The warrior finally tore his eyes away from the small fortune and looked at the man who was offering it to him.

"Just the one. The same one, by the way, who killed your D'ai Wolan."

The warrior pursed his lips.

"Why are you offering the job to us?  We can't move freely on Naboo. There's a big garrison there. It makes things more complicated." He looked longingly at the ingots, but persisted. "Why not hire a bounty hunter?"

"Well," the man on the other side of the table said, shrugging, "I can do that of course. I just thought you might enjoy the opportunity after he made fools of all of you." He sighed and reached for the gleaming pile. "Thank you for your time. I'll find someone who does not fear the Jedi."

"Wait."

Count Dooku looked up, with a bored expression on his face.

"Yes?"

"You say you can teach us how to kill Jedi?"

"Of course." The Count released the pile and folded his hands in front of him on the table. "There is nothing to it."

The warrior spat into his hand and slapped it down on the table. 

"Done."

_* * * * * _

Obi-Wan Kenobi had the distinction of being the first Jedi Knight in almost a millennium to have killed a Sith. After an extended and difficult meditation in the most unlikely of places he was well on his way to figuring out how to track the workings of the Dark Side in the Force. He just didn't realize it yet. 

Master Yoda had always insisted that the truth has to be simple.

Obi-Wan arose from his difficult inner work with a number of clear pictures in his mind.

He was certain now that the dark dread that had entered his awareness when Anakin left the Temple was related to the Sith. It was more than a feeling or a worry. It was an imprint left by something. Obi-Wan struggled to clarify the picture and finally decided that it was analogous less to a footprint in the snow than to a leftover gravity silhouette. The stark absence of something, recent experience with locating the planet Kamino had taught him, was as telling as its presence.

He was also certain that whatever was leaving the Sith-impression was after his Padawan. The thing that had entered his awareness in Coruscant, and to which he gave the name "dread", seemed to move as Anakin moved. Obi-Wan made no assumptions about the connection. He merely observed it.

Finally, he had experienced a powerful image of his old Master Qui-Gon Jinn standing with his arms outstretched, balancing the Sith on one side and Anakin on the other. This image puzzled Obi-Wan more than the others. His Master had been on his mind ever since his arrival on Naboo, but Obi-Wan had thought it was because of his personal memories. Now he wasn't so sure. 

_If Anakin is in fact the Chosen One, _he thought, _shouldn't he be at the center?  Shouldn't he provide the balance?_

But there was no more to be learned at the moment, and Obi-Wan gratefully returned to his conscious mind, stretched his stiff limbs and left the hissing power plant without a backward glance. 

The golden light and long shadows outside called attention to the fact that it was already late afternoon. He had been on Naboo for the better part of a day and not yet decided on the best way to approach Anakin. 

_I shouldn't have to be doing this,_ part of his mind insisted. _My Padawan should do what he is told, when he is told._

The Knight's heart was wiser than his mind and let the thought go. 

With a steadiness of purpose he headed back to the spaceport district and secured lodgings in a small, anonymous guesthouse. Next, he laid aside his Jedi robes and put on clothing that would allow him to blend into the surroundings – in this case, the shabby jumpsuit typical of freighter crews. A long padded jacket hid his light saber effectively enough. 

He spent the evening scouting the district around the Palace and striking up conversations with Palace staff. Remarkably, few of the people he spoke with at length remembered him or their conversation after he left.

A few more stops in the wilder taverns around the spaceport also proved fruitful. There he managed to remain almost as anonymous, although an unavoidable scuffle with a drunken port security guard came close to bringing him some unwanted attention. Still, by the end of the evening no one remembered the bearded cargo jockey at all.

After the taverns closed he snuck back into his ship and sent a brief but urgent message to Coruscant. Tomorrow he would confront Anakin.


	14. Chapter 14 The Hunt

**Chapter 14. The Hunt**

When Obi-Wan Kenobi finally did set out to find his Padawan on the following day he did so openly, wearing his Jedi robes. He began his search at the Palace. Senator Amidala, it was said, had recovered from her illness and was attending meetings all day. But Anakin was nowhere to be found and hardly anyone remembered having seen a young Jedi at all.

News in the Palace always traveled fast. Under the circumstances it was remarkable that, as yet, no one outside Padmé's inner circle knew about her connection with a certain young Jedi. However, the inner circle very quickly learned about Master Kenobi's visit this morning.

On his way out of the Palace Obi-Wan suddenly found that he had company. Two of the Senator's famous Handmaidens appeared on either side of him as if by magic and guided him to a private meeting room before he could protest, although he had not yet planned to make his presence known to the Senator's staff. Despite his formidable skills they easily captured him with the silken handcuffs of protocol. Obi-Wan promptly found himself sitting on an elegant sofa facing two deeply attractive young women who shared a great many characteristics with the Senator. And like her, they did not seem to be intimidated in the least by Jedi Knights. He looked from one to the other.

"Dormé," he said graciously. "How nice to see you again." He looked into the other face. "Sabé, isn't it?  It has been a long time."

It was Sabé who spoke up first.

"You're just the person we want to talk to," she said.

"We were wondering why you are here," Dormé added quickly.

"I'm here to see my Padawan learner," Obi Wan said briefly, waiting to see where this was going.

"I hope," said Sabé bluntly, "that you are here to take him back where he belongs."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows.

"We are very worried about the Senator," said Dormé gently, always countering Sabé's abrasiveness. "We think he is a bad influence on her."

Now, this was interesting. Obi-Wan settled himself comfortably into the sofa. This conversation might prove to be productive indeed.

"Perhaps you had better tell me what you mean."

There was a pause, and then Sabé said, frankly, "Are you aware that Anakin and the Senator are…intimately involved?"

_I am now, _thought the Jedi Knight.

"I know there is an attachment," he said, in his official capacity.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Sabé went on, but isn't that…forbidden…by your Order?"

"It is."

Dormé chimed in. "We don't want her to get hurt. If there is no hope for the relationship, we fear it will end badly for her."

Sabé was more direct. "We want to know what you are going to do about it."

"I think," Obi-Wan said delicately, "that we are on the same side."

"Hah!" Sabé burst out bitterly. "That's what he always says!"

"Oh?" Obi-Wan said, with deep interest. "Perhaps you had better tell me everything."

Before long Anakin's Jedi Master had begun form a picture of his Padawan's recent adventures. It was a complicated puzzle. The Handmaidens were remarkably forthright, especially Sabé. And as skilled observers they added exceptional depth to the story.

Obi-Wan learned a good deal about the D'laians and their treachery. He formed a picture of their character and the effect their actions had on Senator Amidala. _It was not his mission to protect her from the political arena._

He learned about the beginnings of Anakin's intimacy with the Senator. _That didn't take long._

About the child who had become attached to him. _Another attachment?_

About the showdown match with the D'laian warrior, and theSenator's refusal to attend. _That showed very good judgment._

About Anakin's outburst and insight during the conversation with the Chancellor. _What?_

About the Senator's increasing dereliction of duty in order to spend time with his Padawan. _Good judgment that is rapidly eroding._

The Handmaidens expressed their concern about the Senator's bouts of fatigue and strain. _This was predictable._

But it was when Dormé described, with some emotion, the standoff on the bridge of the yacht and its final resolution that all the Jedi Master's powers of reason and senses went on highest alert. _Oh, Anakin, no!_

"Do you know where I could find him now?" he asked the Handmaidens.

They both shook their heads. "He…vanishes, Dormé said. "You only see him when he wants to be seen."

_Well done, Anakin – I taught you that, _Obi-Wan couldn't resist thinking.

"Rest assured that I am not here to give him my blessing," he said, as he stood to leave. "But you must allow me to deal with the situation in my own way." The Jedi Master looked from one to the other. "May I rely on your continued discretion?"

Dormé was evidently shocked that he would even ask. "We will protect the Senator at all costs!" she exclaimed. "No one must know about this."

Sabé refused to be diplomatic. "If you don't set him straight," she threatened, "I will."

Obi-Wan bowed to them. "We are agreed, then. I thank you for your candor." 

And with that he left as quickly as courtesy would allow.

_Where would the boy go all day to make himself scarce?  _Obi-Wan wondered. Oncehe asked himself the question from Anakin's perspective the answer came promptly, and once again the Jedi Master found himself heading toward Theed's main hangar building. 

* * * * * 

"Is that him?"

"He's a Jedi, isn't he? There is only the one."

"He doesn't look like much."

"It's not them. It's their sorcery."

"What's he up to, do you reckon?"

"He's always hanging around that Senator. A bodyguard or something."

"Well, he looks like he's looking for something. Or someone."

"Just keep him in sight."

"Just stay out of his sight, more like."

"When are the others getting here?"

"Tomorrow."

"About time. I hate this place."

_* * * * *_

Obi-Wan had no sooner entered the hangar building than he realized that he had been right. 

_Anakin. _He felt his presence. Deep down he had known where the boy would go. Well, why was it surprising?  If he wasn't in bed, Obi-Wan thought, somewhat uncharitably, it made perfect sense that he would be hanging around the air ships. Obi-Wan quickly locked down his shielding. He wasn't ready to reveal his presence yet.

Then he sighed inwardly. The boy probably wouldn't notice him one way or the other.

Before long Obi-Wan spotted his Padawan in a small group of people near one of the new fighters. Captain Typho was with him. At one point the Security Chief clapped the boy on the back, and several people laughed and reached out to shake Anakin's hand. 

Cloaking himself in the Force so that he would appear almost invisible to the casual untrained observer Obi-Wan skirted the edges of the hangar and took up a position in an alcove where he could observe the hangar floor but was hidden from view.

He didn't have long to wait. Before long someone was handing Anakin a helmet. He was clearly being allowed to take that fighter out for a test flight. It certainly hadn't taken him long to develop a friendly relationship with these people. Who knew how comfortably he would settle in here if events were allowed to continue on their present course?

By the time Anakin took off in the fighter Obi-Wan Kenobi had made up his mind how to proceed. _When a straight line to one's goal is not possible_, he concluded, _it must be approached at a tangent._ Anakin was not the next person he would talk to.

He slipped back around to the main entrance of the Hangar, reduced his shielding and walked in as though he had just arrived. Pretending to look around at the equipment he managed to circle into full view of Senator Amidala's Security Chief.

"Master Kenobi!" Typho was genuinely surprised to see him. "This is unexpected."

"Captain Typho!" Obi-Wan responded pleasantly. "It seems that half the Galaxy has found its way into this sector." He looked around. "And onto Naboo…"

"What are you doing here?  I wasn't informed of your arrival." Typho was genuinely puzzled.

"I was on the Fleet with Master Andros," Obi-Wan said, truthfully enough, "and then since I was nearby I decided to drop by and see how my Padawan's mission concluded. I heard there was a bit of trouble."

Typho looked at him appraisingly. "You could say that."

The Jedi Knight looked around the hangar, and then asked innocently,  "Is he around anywhere?" 

"You just missed him. He's taking a test run in one of the new fighters."

"Oh, well done," Obi-Wan said. "He'll be enjoying that. He's an excellent pilot, you know." 

Typho grinned. "We wouldn't have let him if he hadn't been the kid that blew up the Federation battleship ten years ago. He's famous among the pilots."

_Grand, _Obi-Wan thought. _Fame. Just what he needs._

The Jedi Knight turned the full beam of his amiable attention onto the Captain. "I'll see him later, then. But I would like to hear the story of his most recent mission." He shrugged. "I'm going to have to write an evaluation anyway. You know – procedure."

The Captain nodded with all the sympathy of a man whose whole life revolved around procedure.

"I could fill you in," he offered. "I'm almost finished here."

 Obi-Wan smiled gratefully. "Any chance I can invite you to a midday meal?"

* * * * *

_Will wonders never cease? _Captain Typho thought. _A Jedi Knight just offered to buy me lunch!  _Whatever the Jedi's true motivations were, the offer had been too good to pass up. He'd be telling his grandchildren about this one.

A few hours at a local inn, a good lunch and a moderate quantity of excellent Antillean brandy later, Captain Typho decided that when the Jedi weren't being imperious or reading minds or dismembering people with their lightsabers they could actually be pretty good company. Master Kenobi had a few good stories to tell. And he was a very good listener. 

He had seemed quite interested in learning about the dressing-down the Senator gave his Padawan after the meeting in the conference room. But Typho thought the story the Jedi Knight had enjoyed most was the one about Skywalker's swordfight with Wolan. They had a good laugh about how much money Typho had won. Typho had also told him what he could about the confrontation on the bridge, but he couldn't fill in all the details since he had not been an eyewitness.

The talk turned to politics and security matters.

"Tell me, Captain," the Jedi Knight finally said, "do you know a reason why someone would have been following me all day?"

The Captain looked at the Jedi speculatively. "How do you mean?"

"Two men have been following me since I left my lodgings. Yet I have just arrived and my presence was not announced. I wondered whether you would know why."

Typho didn't.

"I just wondered," Obi-Wan said casually, "whether they are connected to the D'laian presence on Naboo."

Typho stared at him, then recovered and decided that with a Jedi, honesty was the best policy. "I wasn't aware that there are D'laian spies here. I would have been informed."

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan agreed. "Still, I gather that there are several D'laians lurking about." He smiled. "They really dislike it here on Naboo. Hiding is not in their nature."

Typho was silent.

"I simply wondered," Obi-Wan said, "why two of them happen to be following me. I ask myself whether it has anything to do with my Padawan."

Typho thought about it. "He did make a lot of enemies on the Yacht," he finally conceded.

The Jedi smiled wryly.

"Do you want any help with them?" Typho asked.

"Thank you, no," Obi-Wan said politely. "I would like to learn what they want." 

* * * * *

By the time the Captain had staggered off into the late afternoon to finish up his paperwork and figure out what to do about the D'laian spies, a clear-headed Obi-Wan had decided with whom he would have his next conversation. Again, it would not be Anakin. He directed his steps into the sunset and toward the Palace.

_Good job, Anakin, _he reflected sardonically on the way. _The Jedi don't need more enemies._  

There was no way he could have explained explain to the Security Captain that his pursuers were marked by the Sith impression. It made sense to him that they might believe they were following Anakin.

_So, my Padawan, _he thought, as the looming shape of the Palace blotted out the setting sun. _Your enemies become my enemies._


	15. Chapter 15 Surprises

**Chapter 15. Surprises**

Dormé slipped into Padmé's awareness with a look on her face that made the Senator completely forget the documents in front of her.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone is here to see you." Dormé hesitated. "It's Obi-Wan Kenobi. He just showed up."

"He is here?  Now?" Padmé's heart missed a beat. It was early evening. She was expecting Anakin to turn up any minute after having not seen him all day. There could only be one reason why the Jedi Master was here. Padmé began to feel a kind of fear that no enemy could have inspired. For a moment the work on her desk blurred.

_I thought we would have more time. This is too soon. I need more time._

Fool. She knew this would happen. "Show him in," she said, with a little break in her voice.

Dormé squeezed her mistress' shoulder gently, as though she could pass along some reassurance with her touch, and went through to the sitting room. Padmé stood up reluctantly and followed her.

"Master Kenobi," she said graciously to the familiar figure. "This is an unexpected visit."

He smiled at her – warmly, she thought – and bowed. 

"I am sorry to arrive unannounced and at this late hour," Senator Amidala, he said. "But I have come on a matter of considerable importance."

_Oh, yes, _agreed Padmé silently. _It is very important. _Aloud she continued with the formalities. Waving her hand toward a collection of sofas and chairs that were clustered at the far end of the spacious and lovely room she invited him to take a seat. On the opposite wall tall, intricately designed windows framed the rich red and purple tapestry of another glorious Naboo sunset. Dormé moved around the room putting on lights to counter the gathering gloom of dusk. Then she disappeared.

The Jedi Knight went unerringly to the window seat where she and Anakin had sat together only the night before talking and…and….Padmé forced herself to push the hot swell of memory aside. What if this Jedi could read her thoughts the way that Anakin could? 

In the dying light Obi-Wan's expression was shadowed and hard to see. With some reluctance Padmé followed him to the window and sat down next to him so that she could meet him face to face. They regarded one another in silence.

_His eyes are kind_, Padmé thought, suddenly and somewhat randomly wondering how old he was. Not too many years older than I, she found herself thinking, and yet he carries such an air of authority. And something else – a kind of serenity. Solidity. Permanence. He was so different from Anakin. 

Senator or no, Padmé felt like a child that was about to be chastised for doing something wrong.

_I suppose I deserve it, _she thought. _I knew this would happen. We both did. But Gods, I don't want to let Anakin go._

Padmé found that she was not up to making polite conversation and simply sat quietly, waiting for Obi-Wan to speak.

* * * * *

Obi-Wan found the Senator changed. It wasn't only her outer appearance, although that was different, too. Instead of her usual elaborate garments she wore a simple, pale gown without ornamentation of any kind. Her hair was arranged with equal modesty. Somehow, he thought, that very simplicity made her being seem brighter. He noticed a different kind of Force presence – subtle, yet with a distinctive underlying character that was new. 

_Yes, _he thought. _Something has changed profoundly._

After an extended silence Obi-Wan realized that it was up to him to speak.

"I am here about my Padawan," he said.

Padmé's eyes did not leave his, but she did not say anything. 

He went on carefully.

"Something has happened," he said. "Something that is very worrying."

Padmé nodded for him to continue but still did not speak. The guarded look in her eyes, though, told him a great deal. She felt exposed, vulnerable.

"I don't know how familiar you are with the relationship between Master and Padawan in the Jedi Order," he continued, "but it is an extremely close one." He tried to choose his words carefully. "A Jedi Master is both a teacher and a parent. For the whole of the Padawan's training we are almost inseparable. We live together. Eat together. Work, train and play together. We carry out missions together."

Obi-Wan struggled mightily to find the right way to explain the depth of the Master-Padawan relationship to an outsider. How could he make her understand?  

"To take on a Padawan is the highest calling in the Order, because it is a sacred trust to guide and guard another being's life until they reach maturity and independence," he said carefully. "Any Master would lay down his own life for his Padawan without hesitation. During the time of the Master-Padawan bond, the Padawan's needs are paramount and the Master devotes all those years exclusively to meeting them."

He paused again before dropping his next words into the profound stillness between them.

"In return, the Padawan is expected to give the Master complete respect and unquestioning obedience. Without these, the training bond cannot function because it is based on trust." 

Padmé swallowed. 

The Jedi Knight's voice remained warm and even. "These commitments are made gladly, and with love." His gaze seemed to turn inward as images of his years with his Padawan broke free and began to dance in his memory. "You remember the circumstances under which Anakin and I entered into this bond, Senator Amidala."

Padmé nodded.

"Anakin has been by my side for ten years. He was always there for me, and I for him. Even when we disagreed. I can't tell you how many times he has saved my life. More than I would ever admit to in his presence."

Padmé found her voice again. Obi-Wan perceived that she had been listening to his story with her whole being. She answered as though she had felt his warmth, his concern, and his need to explain. "I imagine you have saved his many times as well."

Obi-Wan was grateful for her attempt to meet him part of the way. "I have tried to care for him and protect him and teach him everything he will need to know once he leaves me." He hesitated, and then went on again. He had to make her understand. "But there is more. There is an even deeper bond between Master and Padawan. You might call it a telepathic bond."

There was a sudden flash of recognition in the Senator's eyes. "You can reach out to one another in your thoughts," she said. "You always know the other person is there."

Obi-Wan looked at her attentively. "Yes," he said. That's it exactly. "It's not an invasive connection – but it is a deep one."

"One that you would miss terribly if it were gone," Padmé said, seeming to understand perfectly.

The Jedi Knight and the Senator from Naboo had one another's undivided attention. As they sat facing each other on the window seat the room around them seemed to disappear – the only thing that remained was the two of them and their conversation. Unnoticed, the sky outside the tall windows had darkened completely and covered itself with stars.

"Anakin has broken that connection with me," Obi-Wan said gently. 

Padmé's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "I am so sorry, Master Kenobi," she whispered with such sincerity that he knew without a doubt that remarkably enough, she did understand. "I had absolutely no idea."

Obi-Wan was certain that was true. He was also rapidly becoming certain of a number of other things. That the attachment between her and his Padawan was not a casual one. That she was honest and good and suffering terribly. And that Anakin had a great deal to account for. More, probably, than either of them knew.

"I am not here to blame you for anything, Senator," Obi-Wan said in that same gentle voice. "In fact, I am deeply concerned about you."

"About me?" Padmé was surprised. "Why?"

"I know Anakin better than anyone, I think. I know his power. I know his capacity for passion. And I know how he feels about you." He looked directly into her eyes. "He worships you. He has since the day I first met him as a dusty, frightened little boy."

Padmé's gaze turned inward, as if she were remembering. It was all so innocent then. How had their lives arrived at his point?  "Master Kenobi…" she began, then stopped. "I don't know what to do." 

Obi-Wan reached out and covered her hand with his.

"Of course you don't," he said, softly. "There are overwhelming forces at work here." There was so much more to explain to her. He hardly knew where to begin.

Abruptly his attention snapped to the hallway outside. A few moments later voices could be heard, along with something that sounded suspiciously like shrieking.

"Anakin," said Obi-Wan.

"Balé," said Padmé at the same time.

They were both right. 

There was a knock on the door. Before Padmé could gather herself enough to respond it opened and a tall young Jedi stepped inside and gently dumped a brightly colored, wiggling and shrieking bundle onto the soft carpet.

"Oh," said Balé, excited when she saw Padmé's visitor. "Another Jedi!  Can you make me fly, too?"

When Anakin looked up and saw his Master Obi-Wan knew from the look on his face that the broken bond had in fact been torn out by the root. Anakin had not had the slightest idea that he was here. Comprehending, Obi-Wan found himself marveling at the skill that was required to create a sense-block that effective and that specific.

In that first instant of recognition a stream of conflicting emotions played over Anakin's face for all to see. Then he visibly shut down and his face became an impenetrable mask, although his eyes never left his Master's.

Padmé evidently had seen the transformation as clearly as he had, and found it equally disturbing. Immediately she reached out in an attempt to make up for Anakin's cut by taking both of the Jedi Knight's hands in her own small soft ones and saying, firmly,  "Master Kenobi, please tell me that you can stay longer. I would very much like to continue our conversation."

Without taking his eyes off Anakin's now unexpressive ones, Obi-Wan thanked her and accepted her invitation. He had instantly decided to remain on Naboo as long as it took to reach his Padawan. He would deal with the Council later.

Anakin's face remained locked down. Unseeingly he bent down to pick up the clamoring child, who was beginning to be upset by the tension in the room.

"Anakin," Padmé said, with some desperation. At her call his eyes finally left his Master's and found hers instead. His transformation was immediate. Anakin softened. He opened. The Force surged between him and Padmé like an electrical spark and surrounded them both until it became a single field that stretched across the room.

Balé sulked on Anakin's shoulder, knowing instinctively that she no longer had her playmate's attention.

Obi-Wan saw everything. And what he saw was much, much worse than he had expected.

"I have been looking for you, Anakin," he said. Obi-Wan found the cozy familial scene of Anakin with the woman and the child deeply unsettling and downright inappropriate. But that was not what worried him most.

Anakin's expression hardened again when he looked at his Master. 

"If you will excuse me," Anakin said coldly, "Balé needs to go to bed." And he turned on his heel and walked out of the room with the child, never once looking back.

For the first time in a very long time, the Jedi Master didn't know what to do.


	16. Chapter 16 Challenges

**Chapter 16. Challenges**

"You were very rude to him, you know," Padmé said mildly after Obi-Wan had left. Anakin had stayed behind, of course. It would take more than a disapproving Master to keep him from the evenings and nights with Padmé that he had quickly come to think of as his right. 

She was walking back and forth between a wardrobe and a table, sorting gifts for her family brought back from Coruscant. Anakin lounged on the bed, never taking his eyes off her.

"He took me by surprise," was all he was willing to say.

Padmé stopped momentarily and gave him an ironic look. "You are a Jedi and he is your Master. It must have taken some doing to be that surprised."

"I've worked very hard at shutting him out," Anakin finally conceded, a bit sulkily. Then he brightened. "I succeeded, too."

Padmé shook her head. "And that's something you're proud of?"

Anakin shrugged. "I wanted some privacy." He continued to stalk her with his gaze as she moved around the room, holding up objects like scarves and carved boxes for inspection, and then placing them on the table. 

Padmé glanced up, enjoying his attention. She felt sorry for Obi- Wan but being at close quarters with Anakin always had the effect of obliterating anything else. Then she remembered the gift for her father in the bottom drawer. As soon as she disappeared from view to retrieve it Anakin flung himself to the bottom of the bed so that he could still see her. She looked up, startled, to find his eyes directly in front of hers.

"What are you doing?"

"Memorizing you."

Padmé stopped what she was doing and stared back from her position on her knees in front of the open drawer. It was the first indication Anakin had given that he might not be there by her side forever. Until now he had steadfastly refused to contemplate anything but the immediate present.

He was so good at denial that sometimes Padmé was able to pretend along with him. It made for some blissful moments.

"Memorizing me…so you have memories to take with you when you go?" She forgot about the open drawer and the box in her hands that contained a deftly carved pipe for her father.

"I didn't say I was going."

"But you are thinking about it."

He loomed closer and just managed to kiss her nose.

"Obi-Wan will call me to account sooner or later."

He did not refer to him as _Master _Obi-Wan.

"It was never a matter of whether you would return," Padmé said, looking down at the box in her hands without seeing it. "But of when."

"Not to me," Anakin said in a tone whose resonance made her look up. "I am completely serious when I say that you are the most important thing my life."

Padmé got up off her knees and sat down on the edge of the bed, still holding the box. 

"And I meant it when I said that I don't want to be the cause of a rift between you and the Jedi Order." She frowned. "Although it may have gone too far already. I honestly don't understand why Obi-Wan is being so patient with you. With us. I would have expected him to haul you unceremoniously back to Coruscant and lock you up for the next five years."

"He couldn't if he tried," Anakin said, angling toward a particularly sensitive spot on her throat. "And he knows it."

Padmé pulled back and warded him off with the box.

"Stop it," she said. "This is serious. Aren't you obligated to do exactly as he says?"

"Technically, yes," Anakin said, lounging back on one elbow after being thwarted. "But I have to be willing. The only way he can make me do anything at this point is by persuasion."

"So that is why he is here. To persuade you."

Anakin leaned back on the bed and started tossing a small pillow into the air. "I've put him in a difficult position. He knows that if he demands that I return and I refuse, he has a potential renegade Jedi on his hands. Very dangerous."

"Anakin!" Padmé was genuinely shocked. "You wouldn't do that!"

Anakin kept tossing and catching the pillow. "The only way they can keep control over me is to keep me close."

Padmé stared at him in disbelief. "You sound so…cold…about this!  I thought you wanted to become the greatest Jedi ever."

He abruptly put aside the pillow and sat up, his posture unconsciously adjusting to a change in the level of the conversation.

"Of course I want to be a Jedi," he said, looking into her eyes with the intensity of a saber blade. "I am a Jedi. But not on their terms. I will no longer allow the Jedi Order to keep me from the people I love. Not again. Not ever."

"Anakin, are you threatening to leave the Order?"

Again, Anakin would not confront the question directly. "Let's see how much it's worth to them to keep me on. How important their Chosen One is to them." There was a certain bitterness in his tone.

Padmé was deeply troubled. "So… you're going to challenge them to make an exception in your case. You're squaring off against the Jedi Order by yourself…because of me." Her stomach was starting to turn over unpleasantly. "I can't possibly support that. I can't live with myself if I'm the cause of that! Anakin, you have to stop this."

"Why?" he asked softly. "Why must I not challenge the Order?" He looked down at his right arm and flexed the wrist. "I wouldn't be any good to them anyway. I would be maimed without you."

"Wounds heal," said Padmé, stunned by the strength of his simple declaration. She also looked down at the arm and wondered why she was arguing the other side.

"They never heal completely. And they leave you changed." 

Padmé felt a chill. She crept closer and leaned against his back as he sat on the end of the bed, drawing comfort from his physical presence and warmth.

"What has changed, Anakin?"

_Trust. _The word did not need to be spoken out loud.

"My mother always told me to be brave and to follow my heart. She encouraged me to find my own path. She believed in it so much that she willingly let me go so I could follow Master Jinn and become a Jedi." 

"I remember."

"I was only a few years older than Balé – can you imagine that? I look at her now and I can't believe it. And unlike Balé's parents, my mother was alive. But they never let me see her or talk to her again."

"I know." Padmé deeply sympathized with Anakin on that one. She couldn't imagine being forcibly separated from her family.

"I was a child and I accepted it. I was powerless to do anything about it." He seemed to be looking into the far distance. "If I hadn't disobeyed my mandate I would never have seen her before she died."

Padmé wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"If I had disobeyed sooner I might have saved her."

"You don't know that," Padmé whispered.

Anakin went on as though he hadn't heard. "Now they are going to try to do it again. But I'm not a child any more. And I don't accept the idea that the Jedi are the only ones who know the right path."

"The Jedi are known for their wisdom," Padmé said softly. "What makes you think you know better than they do?"

"They're the ones who always tell me to trust my feelings." Anakin turned around suddenly and captured her, heading straight for that spot on her throat again. "My feelings say that I want you."

"I'm sure that's not what they meant!" Padmé gasped, escaping him long enough to retrieve the box and place it on the table with the other gifts. Venturing closer again, she said,  "I don't want to be the excuse for your estrangement from Obi-Wan or from the Order."

"I think it would have come to this eventually with you or without you. Believe me, it's been going on for a long time." Anakin's arms encircled her waist and drew her to him. "I just didn't realize, until I saw Obi-Wan sitting there glaring at me, how unwilling I am to go back to the way things were."

"Stay away from the Senator, my very young Padawan_," _he said in his best Obi-Wan voice. _"Attachment is forbidden." _Padmé, who just a short time ago would have disapproved of his disrespectful behavior, giggled in spite of herself.__

Before long Anakin had insinuated his way back to his original destination at her throat, teasing out a very satisfying response. Throughout the entire conversation he had never once lost sight of his original objective.

"What are you going to do?" she asked apprehensively once she had collected herself a bit. 

"I'm going to make Obi-Wan work very, very hard," he said with deep satisfaction. "If he wants me, he'll have to come and get me."

"So," Padmé said, evading him so that she could continue the conversation just a little longer,  "you're willing to speak with him?"

"If I have to." He was very focused on other things.

"Good," she said, slithering backwards to gain just enough time to finish what she was going to say. "Because I have invited him to lunch. Here. Tomorrow. With us."

"Fine," Anakin mumbled, undeterred.

Padmé was deeply uneasy about the rebellious path Anakin was outlining, as well as with her own role in it. She had decided after her conversation with Obi-Wan and after observing Anakin's reaction to him that Master and Padawan needed to talk to one another. As much as she wanted Anakin in her life, she did not believe that it was in anyone's interests to allow the rift between him and Obi-Wan to become permanent.

But for the moment unease was rapidly becoming overpowered by other, more immediate feelings. Anakin was artfully navigating his way across her body in a way that was making any kind of rational thought impossible.

"Anakin," she whispered, and when he did not respond she tried again. _Anakin._

He stopped and looked up.

"Anakin, what if this is the last time?  What if we never have time together again?"

"It isn't," he said firmly. "It won't be. I won't let it be."

"I don't know how to let you go," she said, holding on to him as though he might disappear any minute. "I know I have to, but I don't know how."

"Don't worry_,_"he said to her softly. "There is nothing they can do to keep us apart."

"Of course there is," she protested. "Your Master is here to bring you back…"

"Shhhh." Anakin refused to allow any more worries. "There is no Obi-Wan. There is nothing outside of us. In the whole universe there are only the two of us…"

Padmé decided to believe him. She needed to. Together they were learning to weave a complex and intimate world of two in which nothing else in the Universe mattered. _I'll just pretend that everything is going to be all right, _Padmé thought to herself as she desperately lost herself in that magical and private realm where the boundaries set by others did not exist. _Just for now. _

_I will not leave you, _Anakin reassured her, over and over again.


	17. Chapter 17 Remembrance

**Chapter 17. Remembrance**

Padmé cautiously re-entered her apartment in the Palace of Theed from the terrace to find Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi still sitting at her polished dining table leaning his hand on his chin and looking at an overturned chair on the floor.

"That didn't go well," he said without looking up, when he had sensed her presence. 

"I'm sorry, Master Kenobi," she said, biting her lip. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. I meant well."

"I know you did," he said, chin still in hand. "So did we all."

Padmé slipped back into the chair she had abandoned when the discussion had turned heated and personal. Trying to give the two Jedi some privacy she had to retreat all the way to the far corner of the terrace. Even from that distance she had overheard much of what went on. Three plates of soup had grown cold. They never even made it past the first course.

_"Nothing I have ever done has been good enough for you, has it, Master? If I mastered one lesson, I fell short on another. If I won a sparring match I was too flashy. If I triumphed I was immodest. If I saved your life, I was too rash."_

_"…and of course, it was my fault you were so badly injured on Geonosis. If I tried to help you, I got you hurt."_

"I think I'm the one who owes you an apology," Obi-Wan said to his hostess. "You should never have been exposed to that conversation."

"Not at all, Master Kenobi." Padmé was trying not to smile. "In fact, it made me feel quite a bit better."

He looked up, taken aback.

"At least I know I'm not the sole cause of the trouble!"

Obi-Wan went back to his gloomy contemplation of the chair. There was another long silence.

Padmé suddenly started to laugh. She couldn't help it. 

"You're wondering what in the world I see in him!" she burst out. "It's written all over you!"

The Jedi Master looked at her in wonder. She was right. He had just been asking himself how this beautiful, well-mannered, intelligent and very gracious woman could possibly be involved with – never mind supposedly in love with – the rude, impulsive and self-centered boy who had just slammed out of the room leaving that overturned chair in his wake. It was impossible to imagine.

"It's a bit like the Master-Padawan relationship," she began, only to be unnerved by a very hard blue-green stare under a pair of sternly raised eyebrows. "I…I mean, in the sense that it can't very well be explained to… outsiders." 

Obi-Wan continued to look at her in disbelief. 

"This is a side of him I don't normally see," she finished, with uncommon awkwardness. 

"I would hope not," the Jedi Master said crisply.

_"Why didn't they want me?  Why do they watch me all the time?  Why are they afraid of me?  I have done everything that has been asked of me, and more. But they don't trust me. You don't trust me. What have I done to deserve that?"_

_"Not of you, Anakin. Of what you might do."_

_"What might I do? All I ever wanted was to be a Jedi Knight. I was born to be one."_

_"I know. But are you willing to make the necessary sacrifices?  Would you give up love, for example?  The kind of love that is personal and exclusive?"_

_"I don't see why I have to. Why can't I have both?  Why can't every Jedi?  Why can't you?"_

There was another long silence. This time Obi-Wan stared at Padmé rather than at the chair. She stared back__

"Tell me something, Senator Amidala," he finally said. "Why is it that you have not once asked me to leave, or tried to hide your relationship with my Padawan?  Why have you tried to bring us together?"

Padmé met his gaze levelly.

"Probably for the same reason that you have not demanded that I stay away from him or threatened me with exposure and other horrors if I don't." She paused. "We both seem to want the same thing from Anakin – his heart and mind, freely given."

Obi-Wan frowned thoughtfully and began to drum his fingers lightly on the table. It was a gesture that only those closest to him would have recognized as a sign of extreme distress. Jedi Knights do not, as a rule, fidget.

_"Why did you take me on as Padawan?  You had to defy the Council to do that."_

_"Much of this is my fault, Anakin. I was far too young to be someone's Master. I had just been made a Knight – I had no experience on my own at all. I took you on because it was Master Jinn's dying wish."_

_"So I was right. You never wanted me. All those years – you didn't care about me – you_ _were just fulfilling an obligation."_

_"No, Anakin, that isn't true!  Listen to me – I 'm being honest when I tell you how all this began. But it changed – over the years it changed, don't you see?  I grew to care for you more than you realize." _

But Anakin had no longer been there to hear.

"Master Kenobi?" Padmé's gentle voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up unhappily.

"Master Kenobi, if you don't have any other pressing business right now, would you be willing to take a walk with me?  There is something I would like to show you."

"My only pressing business just implied that I am an unfeeling, duty-blinded failure, overturned that chair and left. I think I might have some time available."

Padmé smiled sympathetically and tugged at his arm.

"Come walk with me, Master Kenobi," she said again.

* * * * *

The ancient Palace at Theed stood at the heart of the Naboo Capital's Old City. Surrounded by gracious gardens and plazas, it stood on a hill that overlooked the city, the waterfalls and the plains beyond. Padmé chose a shaded path that wound around the palace and gradually led downward by a series of broad stairs edged by elaborate balustrades. Each landing and turning provided lovely views. The Senator and the Jedi Knight strolled slowly, conversing quietly as Padmé described points of interest in her home city.

Approximately halfway down the hill she paused again at a landing that provided a broad open view of the city and the spaceport. It seemed to Padmé that the Jedi Knight beside her could sense the distress that she felt at the sight of the military activity that flowed through the streets of the city like a river seeping over its banks. He hovered silently nearby, watching her face, providing a warms and solid presence.

Suddenly Padmé had the unreal feeling that she was watching another scene superimposed onto the view. She saw fires and battles, and experienced a flash of terror that had nothing to do with the mild and beautiful scene below her. Obi-Wan reached out to steady her before she fell. As soon as he did, she recovered.

"Are you all right, My Lady?" he asked, using the polite Naboo form of address.

"Thank you, Master Kenobi. I'm fine." She was still stunned by the power of the images she had just experienced and did not feel ready to talk about them.

_It must be my imagination, _she thought. _I am picturing my fears._

_* * * * *_

Obi-Wan did not press her, but contented himself with observing her carefully.

_It is as I thought, _he said to himself. _And it is getting worse._

They continued down the path in a comfortable silence, thinking their own thoughts and enjoying the pleasant and undemanding company provided by the other.

From the top of another set of steps Obi-Wan glimpsed the graceful dome of the Theed Temple. He remembered it well. The last time he was there it was filled with dignitaries from throughout the Galaxy who had come to honor his Master at Qui-Gon's funeral pyre. The Jedi Council had been there, as had then-Senator Palpatine. If he allowed the images to surface he could vividly remember the press of grief and the smell of the herbs and incense on the fire. He remembered how the outer silence contrasted with the clamor of thoughts. He remembered the fear in the small boy by his side.

Senator Amidala seemed to be taking them in that direction. Indeed, they followed the path straight toward a plaza that opened onto the Temple district. But his companion veered away from the entrance of the building and instead chose to enter a small gate in one of the massive walls that embraced the Sanctuary on both sides. It led into a completely walled garden that was full of statues and rare and precious plants.

Padmé gestured around the garden, inviting him in.

"This is our Garden of Honors," she explained. "It is our tradition, our way, to commemorate those who have played an important role in our public life."

They circled the quiet and fragrant space slowly, marveling at the variety and artistry of the statues, plaques and sculptures that dotted the garden.

Obi-Wan smiled broadly when he found himself face to face with a substantial and energetically rendered statue of Boss Nass. Padmé laughed. "We are approaching more recent history on this side of the garden," she pointed out.

Then she put her hand on his arm and pulled him almost eagerly into a nearby shady alcove. She stopped in front of a pillar that was so modest compared to the magnificence of the other memorials that it might easily go unnoticed. No higher than eye level, it was a simple polished slab of a rich pinkish stone. A single determined eliril vine was struggling, with limited success, to take hold of the gleaming surface.

Obi-Wan stared at the slab in complete amazement. Affixed to the polished stone near the top of the pillar was a raised metal plaque rendered by an artisan of staggering gifts. It depicted in exquisite detail the faces of two Jedi Knights and a young boy.

There was his Master's face, rendered so vividly that he expected it to speak. Just below Qui-Gon's was Obi-Wan's own youthful face, with his hair still cropped but without his Padawan braid. Below his own shoulder was Anakin as a young boy with his hair flopping into his eyes.

Without intending to Obi-Wan reached out and stroked the image of his Master's face and his vision blurred. Padmé watched him in silence.

"How…how did this get here?" Obi-Wan asked hoarsely.

"I had it made while I was still Queen," she said quietly. "I felt I wanted to commemorate Master Jinn's role – and your role – in our successful battle against the Trade Federation. And Anakin's, of course."

"We serve," Obi-Wan said briefly. "We do not require commemoration." He did not take his eyes off the plaque.

"It wasn't for you, Master Kenobi," she said. "It was for me. I needed it." There was a long silence. "I was so angry with him, you see."

Obi-Wan tore his eyes away from his Master's face and found hers, completely taken aback.

"Angry with Master Jinn?  Why?"

Padmé sank down on a small stone bench that was almost hidden in greenery.

"I was so young, Master Kenobi, and I carried so much responsibility. I needed help desperately. Chancellor Valorum had promised me negotiators. I didn't realize at first that he was sending Jedi Knights."

"I was only a Padawan then, My Lady," Obi-Wan said, seating himself on the ground beside her bench.

"To the outside observer there is very little difference, Master Kenobi," she said dryly. "Based on recent experience I have learned to value the skills of the Jedi Padawan learner highly."Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows but held his tongue.

Padmé went on. "I thought initially that Master Jinn would solve all my problems for me. Instead, I found him difficult, contrary and patronizing. He either insisted on doing things entirely his way or refused to help at all."

_I cannot fight a war for you._

Obi-Wan remembered. It was fascinating to hear her perspective.

"I never knew whether he was aware from the beginning that I was the Queen."

Obi-Wan grinned. "He was." 

"That makes it even worse," Padmé said somewhat sourly, "because he certainly gave no consideration to the Queen's wishes."

"It was for the best," Obi-Wan said.

"Well, that's just it," Padmé reflected. "Only in hindsight did I begin to see that, by forcing us to take action on our own, Master Jinn ensured that the solution we found was one we could follow through on our own. He made it necessary for us to be independent."  She reached down and picked a long leaf and began running it through her fingers. "But the whole time he was right there, providing support."

"It is our way." Obi-Wan explained. "The minute we impose our own choices we become part of the problem. Our mission is always to help others find the appropriate solutions."

"It doesn't always work that way, does it, Master Kenobi?  Sometimes direct intervention is required."

"It is a fine line," the Jedi Master admitted, thinking poignantly of their current situation, "and one we struggle with constantly."

"So," Padmé went on, finishing her story, "I suppose I felt guilty about my uncharitable feelings toward Master Jinn. Especially after he died. I wanted to commemorate him – all of you – somehow." She looked at him earnestly. "Whenever I feel myself struggling with pride and impatience I come here to re-learn charity and humility."

There was a long silence while both of them followed their own thoughts. Obi-Wan could not remember ever having had a conversation of this nature with someone from outside of the Order.

"And Anakin?"

"You were not by your Master's side on Tatooine, Master Kenobi. Perhaps you have never realized how unselfishly Anakin helped us. I think about that more often than about his spectacular shot on the Trade Federation Control Ship."

Obi-Wan became aware of feelings rising that he thought he had long ago put way for good. Even his visit to the hangar had not wakened them. Yet here they were.

"I was angry with Master Jinn, too," he suddenly found himself saying, surprising himself more than her. The words were extremely difficult to say, but he couldn't seem to stop them and they came out in an uncharacteristic rush.

"I was furious that he had put me aside for that boy. And then he died. I always believed that he died because I failed him. And then his dying wish was that I train Anakin. I had to do it. The only way I could make up for that anger and for failing him was to do the best job I could in raising the boy. It was what my Master wanted."

A breeze rustled though the garden, lifting the Jedi Knight's hair and brushing his face.

"And now, Master Kenobi?" Padmé asked gently. 

"And now I believe that I have failed Anakin, too."

Padmé reached over and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "How could you have failed?" she asked. "He is…extraordinary."

_There is so much that you don't know, _he thought. _He is endangering you. _He could not think of any words that would be appropriate to say, so he remained silent_. _

"Like it or not, Master Kenobi," Padmé went on, "you and I are bound together through Anakin. No matter what happens, no matter what punishments you and the Jedi Council devise for him, I will never stop loving him. I think you will find that he feels the same way." A little archly, she finished, "I can't explain it to you, so you will just have to accept it."

And then once again she succeeded in thoroughly surprising him – Jedi Master though he was.

"Since for better or for worse we are practically related, I wish you would call me Padmé."

The Jedi Knight stood up and brushed the leaves off his clothing. His eyes sought the plaque once more and he gazed at the three faces. Then he looked at Padmé.

_What a remarkable woman, _he thought.

Out loud he said with the deepest courtesy, "My name to you is Obi-Wan. I am at your service."

Padmé smiled at him.

"I will leave you now, My Lady." He looked straight into her eyes. "Thank you for your efforts on my behalf." He looked around the garden briefly and then found her eyes with his again. "Thank you for showing me this."

Padmé inclined her head as well, wondering what he was going to do next.

"Thank you for a most enjoyable walk, Obi-Wan."

The Jedi Knight hesitated.

"I would not leave you if I thought it meant you had to return to the Palace alone. But I believe you will have a companion."

Padmé looked puzzled for a moment, and then her face cleared.

"I wish you a good night, My Lady," Obi-Wan said, although it was not later than mid-afternoon. "Please tell Anakin that I will see him in the morning." And with that he resolutely turned his back and strode out of the Garden of Honors with the light, swinging step that comes from balance, poise and firmness of purpose.

_It's all I can do for them, _the Jedi Knight thought as he left the garden behind. _It may be the last thing I can ever do for Anakin. I hope they find some joy before the storm._

His steps took him across the city toward the Spaceport, where he would spend the remainder of the day and the night meditating, watching for his urgently anticipated reinforcements from Coruscant, and being watched by his Padawan's enemies.

* * * * *

Padmé was only puzzled for a moment before she realized whom Obi-Wan must mean.

_Anakin?_

_Here._

Obi-Wan had given them a gift, and Padmé knew it.


	18. Chapter 18 Truths

**Chapter 18. Truths**

The next morning as Anakin was finishing his early morning meditation Obi-Wan appeared in front of him as quietly as a shadow. Since he was sitting on the private terrace attached to Padmé's official residence in the Palace, Anakin could only assume that his Master had come up a number of walls and balustrades to find him rather than invading his and Padmé's privacy. It was decent of him to be discrete, but he never seemed to go away.

This time Anakin noticed his Master's presence right away  But he took his time about opening his eyes.

Obi-Wan was staring at him.

"I'm glad to see that you are keeping up some semblance of discipline," he said.

"Why wouldn't I?" Anakin refused to rise to the bait.

"Well, it's an indolent life here." Obi-Wan waved his hand in an exaggerated circle. "Lovely surroundings, servants, good food." He gave his Padawan a very hard look. "Soft beds…"

"Is there something you want from me?" Anakin asked evenly.

"Yes." Obi-Wan rolled his left shoulder backwards and forwards. "A sparring partner. I'm still having trouble with my left side and I haven't had a challenging workout since I arrived here."

Anakin stood up in one smooth motion. "Flattery. That's unexpected."

"Not flattery. Desperation." 

Anakin loved the idea. Sparring sounded so much better than talking. He sorely missed training with his Master, not to mention the easy camaraderie they had once shared. Still, it wouldn't do to look too eager.

"If you like," he said casually. "Where?"

"There's a lovely field not far from the outskirts," Obi-Wan said. "Lots of room. No onlookers."

Anakin wondered idly just how much space his Master thought they would need, but he was happy to go along with it.

He was really looking forward to this.

* * * * *

"It's happening again," Dormé said quietly to Sabé early on the same morning. "I've had the doctor in again and he doesn't have a clue."

"She's not pregnant, is she?" Sabé asked with some hostility.

Dormé rolled her eyes. "No. She just – gets that pain. And she looks so tired all the time. She only perks up in the evenings."

"She was fine before we got onto the Yacht." Sabé thought for a while. "By the time we got off, she was getting these attacks."

Dormé frowned. "You don't suppose she picked up something?  Something our doctor wouldn't know about?"

Sabé became grim. "I hate to even think this, but maybe we should have her checked for something unusual – like an obscure poison."

Dormé's eyes filled with tears at the thought.

"You don't think the D'laians would have…"

Sabé shrugged. "Sword tips may not be the only things they like to mess with. I don't trust them and this whole conflict may not be over at all."

Dormé was still tearful. Sabé gave her a little hug. 

"Don't worry," she said. "We'll figure something out."

 * * * * *

The early morning sun had not yet dried the dew off the grass when the two Jedi began their age-old ritual. To warm up they carried out the stylized and elegant movements of several standard forms, increasing in difficulty until their blood was surging and the Force awaited their commands.

When they finally faced off Anakin let his Master take the lead as always. "Attack me so that I have to defend with the left," Obi-Wan called out. "I want to work that side first." 

Obediently Anakin did as he was asked, and the meadow began to sizzle with the sound of crystal swords encountering one another again and again. After a while he began to change hands periodically, trying to establish some kind of balance between the hand that was Force-sensitive and the one that was not. It was a problem he had not yet been able to resolve.

Anakin loved every minute of it. There were a great many things he missed about Temple life, not the least of which training and working with Obi-Wan. It didn't occur to him that his Master was watching his every movement, every imbalance and every surge and eddy in the Force like a bird of prey.

When had seen all he needed to, Obi-Wan called out, "Are you up to a challenge?"

"Why?" Anakin asked without missing a stroke.

"Suppose we go all out?"

Anakin was silent for a few strokes.

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Exhibition match. Single round. My choice of weapons. The match continues until one of us yields."

Anakin felt his face go hotter than the exertion warranted. He should have known there would be a lesson in here somewhere. He sliced viciously at Obi-Wan's weak side, but his Master blocked him easily.

"Why don't you just give me the lecture and get it over with." Anakin had to move fast to dodge the next two thrusts. The lectures were something he hadn't missed so much.

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said, keeping up his offensive so that Anakin found himself backing and defending constantly, "perhaps all the rules have changed without my knowing about it. Perhaps the Jedi have a new role in the Galaxy as circus performers." He launched a lethal attack against Anakin's right side. With the miniscule delay in response time Anakin always suffered with his artificial hand, Obi-Wan's thrust hit home and Anakin acquired a nasty proximity burn on his neck.

"Hey," Anakin yelled, still defending, "isn't there some kind of rule about killing your Padawan?"

"Possibly," Obi-Wan said, still attacking. He feinted and jumped sideways, forcing the younger Jedi into a roundhouse leap and slash that he was perfectly positioned to parry. "I suppose it only applies if he still considers himself to be my Padawan."

So. This was not merely a friendly sparring match. It was a time of reckoning. _I should have known, _Anakin thought.

"I did what I had to do to protect Padmé," he yelled, panting a bit.

"From what?" Obi-Wan asked out of a close-quarters struggle for position. They were nose to nose, with crossed light sabers between them. "From her own personal and political choices?" They both ended up having to push back to realign their positions. 

Anakin came up toward his Master's throat from underneath. Obi-Wan flipped backwards and responded with a counterthrust almost before he landed. He had his Padawan on the defensive at every turn.

Somewhere along the line, Anakin realized, this had stopped being fun. It also wasn't fair, because he couldn't exactly attack his own Master…not really.

Or could he?

Obi-Wan felt the shift in Anakin's intentions. He knew he was playing a dangerousgame but he had long since run out of ideas for getting the boy's undivided attention. Time was running out.

"What makes you think," Obi-Wan said, between thrusts, "that you are capable of protecting her?"

Something shadowy was beginning to gather at the edges of Anakin's awareness – something that wanted in but had until now found no access. He pushed it away by completely changing his tactics. Abruptly changing to his right hand again, he gave up all efforts to make it respond to the Force and used it to its own best advantage – sheer, inhuman strength.

His slashes took on a whole new power and Obi-Wan found himself falling back against the onslaught. Anakin had stopped talking. After failing several times to re-gain the offensive Obi-Wan resorted to guile and shoved him, hard, using only the Force. It only worked because Anakin had been concentrating exclusively on the strength of his attack. The push succeeded in knocking him backwards off his feet and he fell hard onto his shoulder.

Obi-Wan knew that his advantage was mostly the result of luck and decided that speed was preferable to elegance in securing it. He pounced on top of his Padawan and held his light saber across his throat. Anakin stopped, panting, and glared at his Master.

"How is Padmé lately?" asked Obi-Wan over the singing hum of his weapon. "Is she well?"

"Fine," said Anakin. "She's fine." The shadows were still gathering. Dark tendrils of – something – began  to creep up his spine. 

"Not tired?" asked Obi-wan. "Experiencing some pain, perhaps?  Pain that gets better when you are around?"

The darkness reached around toward Anakin's chest, making it hard to breathe. 

"How about signs of increased Force sensitivity?" Obi-Wan was looking straight into Anakin's eyes and holding an activated light saber at his throat. There was no escape, however desperately Anakin wanted it.

"Get off me," the temporarily conquered Padawan said through gritted teeth.

Obi-Wan sat back very, very cautiously, not deactivating his light saber until he had withdrawn to a safe distance.

Anakin sat up and glowered at him, rubbing his sore shoulder. 

"What are you talking about?" 

To his Master's perception, a dark cloud surrounded the boy.

Obi-Wan knelt in front of his Padawan, toes braced against the ground in case he had to spring. Holding the hilt of his light saber lightly but in readiness, he thought carefully about what he was going to say. He made his voice as gentle as he could.

"Anakin, do you know why the Jedi Order forbids the kind of attachment that you and Padmé have?"

Anakin slanted a look at him. The way his Master referred to her by her first name bothered him. It sounded too intimate. It implied a relationship between the two of them separate from himself, and he didn't like that idea one bit.

"Because it is a distraction," he said sullenly. "Because it can create divided loyalties." He had heard the drill many times.

"Both of these things are true," Obi-Wan said carefully, "and you and I can both cite a number of examples that have already taken place in your case."

Anakin didn't respond.

"The rules of the Jedi Order are neither frivolous nor wrong," Obi-Wan said firmly. There are sound reasons for all of them, most of which are based on long and bitter experience." 

Anakin looked away.

"There is another reason." Obi-Wan paused to see whether he was getting through.

Anakin's eyes shifted back to him.

_Here it comes_, thought the Jedi Knight. _He'll either hear me or try to kill me_. With the courage of a true servant of the Force, Obi-Wan Kenobi told his Padawan the truth.

"The rule against attachment is largely there to protect those with less Force-sensitivity from the harm that can come to them from people like us."

Anakin's face was back to the stony mask that he seemed to have perfected for use around his Master. But Obi-Wan was deeply attuned to him and could sense a cascade of emotions ranging from disbelief to doubt to…yes, there it was. Fear. There was a part of Anakin that knew, or at least was afraid, that he was telling the truth. 

"We have taught you to shield yourself mentally when you are outside of the Temple for a very good reason. You know as well as I do that a highly trained, Force-sensitive adept can wreak havoc on the unwary and unprotected without wanting to."

As he spoke Obi-Wan never took his eyes off Anakin's stony face. _If looks could kill… _

"I imagine that when you are with her, you let down your mental shielding. That every time you are alone together, she is exposed to a very powerful surge in the Force." 

The emotions Obi-Wan sensed inside of his outwardly impassive Padawan were becoming explosive. 

 "While that – surge – continues, it strengthens and augments her own energy field. But she is untrained, and cannot maintain that level of the Force by herself. When you leave, the augmented energy leaves her and follows you. In effect – your leaving drains her of life Force."

Obi-Wan sighed. This was so difficult. He had worked so hard to keep the boy from realizing just how powerful he was until he gained more control over himself. The Force embraced Anakin like a lover; it gathered around him and longed to do his bidding. He could do things instinctively that others struggled years to master. Obi-Wan had not yet found a single limitation on what his Padawan could learn to do with the Force, given enough time and training.

"Can you imagine what that feels like to her?" He went on. "And can you imagine the effect it has on her biological functioning?"

Anakin suffered a sudden, terrible memory of the etheric cuts he had experienced from Wolan's magic-killing Balaan sword. It was the break in the energy field, the sudden absence of the Force that had caused the pain. 

_Padmé_, he thought. Padmé, with whom he let down all of his mental shielding, all of his defenses. Who could now often sense his presence before she could see him. With whom he could communicate wordlessly. 

She was suffering. And it was his fault. 

The shadow began to rise into his throat. Before it closed completely, he managed to gasp out, "You're saying that I'm hurting her. I'm hurting her just by being with her."

Obi-Wan reached out with the Force to give Anakin support but encountered only chaos. There was anguish in his Padawan's voice.

"If she is showing increased Force sensitivity, that means her body is trying to adjust and beginning to hold on to some of that higher-level energy. But let's face it, Anakin, even some Jedi need to remain shielded around you now that you have reached your current level of proficiency. I can't imagine that a completely untrained person could ever develop the required levels of protection."

Anakin began to weep openly. Obi-Wan found himself overwhelmed by compassion, but there was nothing he could do to soften the blow.

"I don't believe you," Anakin sobbed between clenched teeth. "It's not true."

"I don't lie," said Obi-Wan quietly. "I never lie."

"But you could be wrong." Anakin wasn't about to give up. "It could be something else. How would you know, anyway?  Have you ever had an…attachment?"

"I have been much more careful than you," Obi-Wan said, just as quietly. In the next instant he was grateful that he had not completely lowered his defenses, because Anakin had activated his weapon and began to attack him with a power that was fueled by despair.

"It's not true!" Anakin shouted, slashing viciously. "I wouldn't hurt her!" 

Obi-Wan kept him at bay without attacking, letting him burn out his rage as much as he needed to. Anakin's furious attack took them all over the meadow leaving deep slashes in the earth that had been meant for his Master. Obi-Wan fought mindfully, carefully conserving his energy. He was beginning to wonder just how long he would have to hold out when Anakin's savagery finally began to subside. 

The Jedi Master risked disengaging his light saber. The Padawan hesitated, and then deactivated his as well.

"If you don't believe me," Obi-Wan said, bent over, panting, and bracing his knees with his hands to prevent them from buckling, "then decide for yourself. Go and see her. Think about what I have said. Then come back to me and we will talk more."

Anakin stood poised on a knife-edge, heaving for breath, looking from the cylinder in his hand to his Master. There were still fresh tears on his face.

And then he turned and ran. He ran back toward the Palace and back toward Padmé as if he could outrun the black shadow that was now clutching his soul.

* * * * *

When his Padawan was no longer in sight Obi-Wan sank down to his knees and lifted his face to the sky. Alone in the wide, scarred meadow surrounded by waving shades of green and gold, he offered everything he could find inside himself to the Force: sorrow and tenderness; doubt; worry; and even the nameless dark dread that had been haunting him since Anakin left their home in the Temple. The dread that had impelled him to follow his Padawan at all costs. Emptied, he breathed in the living energy of the planetary Force stream that had absorbed his own Master ten years before. Since his return to Naboo Obi-Wan took comfort in imagining that Qui-Gon's essence was still out here somewhere. 

What had his Master imagined he was going to do with the boy? If he had left him alone on Tatooine Anakin would probably be living a happy and successful life as a pod racer. Smuggler. Gambler. Gifted mechanic. Even leader of a slave rebellion. He would have succeeded at any opportunities his world offered. He might have kept his mother. And he probably would have been content.

And there would not have been this dread.

Instead, without proof that he was in fact the Chosen One, and against the Council's wisdom, he had been torn from his home. Trained in the Jedi arts. And now he was afraid. And unhappy. And powerful. And dangerous. 

The boy didn't know who he was or where he belonged. 

Taking deep and rhythmic breaths Obi-Wan called out to his old Master with his entire being.

_We did this to him, Master. We trained him. We honed him into a weapon._

A breeze played around Obi-Wan's face, answering.

He is the Chosen One. He has a destiny to fulfill. 

_We have hurt him and he will hurt others._

**_ It doesn't have to be that way. He has great capacity for love and good._**

_How can he remain on the right path if even the Jedi cannot keep him there?_

****

**_His path is freedom. He must choose the right way._**__

_What if he cannot?  Every day I see him struggle and fail._

**_Then see him succeeding. He will choose rightly.                        _**

But at what cost? 

There was no answer.

AT WHAT COST? 

There were no more answers in the wind. 

Obi-Wan slowly stood up and headed back to Theed, resolved once and for all to use many means necessary to bring Anakin back home to the Temple. Before it was too late.


	19. Chapter 19 Strategems

**Chapter 19. Stratagems**

The misty early morning had brightened into a warm and sunny day, but when Anakin found Padmé in her apartment she was curled up on the window seat wrapped in her favorite dark brown cloak. She was very surprised to see him. Over the few precious days they had spent together on Padmé's world they had already fallen into a pleasurable routine of spending evenings and nights together and going their separate ways during the day so Padmé could work.

It had been idyllic.

But here he was now in the middle of the morning. And Padmé wasn't working. She was huddled in her cloak. 

Padmé took a long look at him when he appeared at her side.

"The last time I saw you, you were going out to meditate. I didn't know it was such a dangerous activity."

"What?  Oh." He had completely forgotten how he must look – sweaty, disheveled, and with two fresh injuries. The tears had dried on the run. He gave his face a desultory wipe.

 "I was sparring with Obi-Wan." Only a small part of Anakin's mind was engaged with the conversation. Most of his attention was given over to searching her energy fields and paying close attention to the effect he was having on them.

She had no way of knowing how long he had stood outside of her door, torn between running to her to reassure himself that she was all right, and hesitating because he might hurt her. After a long, heart-wrenching struggle he locked down his mental shielding as much as he was able, and forced himself to go in with a completely neutral demeanor. The effort was costing him a great deal.

Padmé smiled. "Does he look as bad as you do?" 

"No." Anakin sat down on the window seat nearby but made sure he wasn't touching her. "He hasn't got a hair out of place."

Padmé laughed, although it didn't stop her from looking tired and drawn. The way she was huddled in her cloak spoke of pain, although he did not dare to let out a single tendril of the Force to find out for certain. Anakin took a deep breath, and could not prevent it shuddering.

"What's wrong?" Padmé felt him holding himself back. Usually his mere presence filled a room like sunshine. Today he seemed muted and somehow contained. 

"I heard that you are ill," he finally ventured. "Really ill."

"Who told you?" She said, thinking of a number of Handmaidens with whom she would have words as soon as she felt up to it. "I'll have her head."

"But why?" Anakin was genuinely taken aback. "Why wouldn't you tell me?  You always seem all right when I am with you."

"I always am all right with you." She shrugged. "It's fine. The doctor has been to see me. It's nothing you need to worry about."

Anakin was torn. With one touch he could make her feel better. But afterward….

He looked at her, seeing her with his heart rather than his eyes. Since the day she had appeared back in his life he had been faced with one agonizing choice after another:  Love or duty. Go or stay. Save Padmé or save Balé. In every case he had struggled to change the terms of the choice so he could have both.

He didn't intend to give up now.

"Padmé," he blurted out, "I need to know whether you have experienced any changes since we – since we have been together." 

"Changes?" The amused disbelief on her face spoke volumes. "One or two," she finally said with delicate irony. "I could begin with a story of forbidden love…" 

With a little more control Anakin said, "I mean more subtle changes – changes in your perceptions, or awareness, or dreams. Anything like that?"

Her eyes said, "yes." Anakin waited.

 "Well, for one thing," she said cautiously, after a while, "I seem to be able to talk to you in my head. That would be all right, but then you answer." His eyes held hers with longing, but he said nothing. "I have noticed that I'm more aware of things around me.

 "Do you notice it when I am not around?"

She shot a glance at him. He was focused. Intense. Listening. "Actually, yes. I don't know how to describe it. My senses are sharper. You know – tastes. Sounds. Colors." Anakin nodded, acknowledging what she was saying. Apparently encouraged by being taken seriously, she ventured further. " I get – the most remarkable images."

He let out a breath that he didn't realize he had bee holding.

"Are they like… like visions?" 

Padmé looked at him in complete surprise. "You know about this?"

Anakin finally smiled, a bit wryly. "We are taught that dreams – well, dreams are a kind of doorway to the Force. We learn to use them to find patterns, even to communicate." He swallowed. "We're trained to dream deliberately, not accidentally. That's why we say that Jedi don't dream." He looked sideways at her. "You could call it a kind of vision."

 "But you dreamt that your mother was suffering." Padmé looked at him with love and sympathy. 

"I know. But I wasn't supposed to." Anakin took another deep breath, looking into some unknowable distance. "Things don't happen to me the way they're supposed to."

_Something has happened. _Padmé_ thought. _Something that he is reluctant to tell me about.__

"Are you implying that all these things are happening to me because…because of you?"

The look of misery on Anakin's face seemed all out of proportion to the conversation. To her surprise he jumped up and began to prowl the room like a caged animal. 

"I can't believe I didn't see it coming." 

Padmé's fell silent. He seemed to think that she was in danger of some kind. It was the only explanation for his behavior. She had an inner impression as if a wind were rising around her, moving everything and changing all the fixed points in her life. _It's all shifting, _she thought,_ everything that is known, familiar, and safe. _Anakin seemed caught up in it as he paced the room, head down, radiating silent fury. 

Padmé realized with a shock that she was afraid, but not for herself. She was afraid for him. If he thought she was in danger, and that it was somehow his fault, there was no telling what he would do. She had a momentary image – like a waking dream – of powerful currents pulling Anakin away from her, and the brief vision left her feeling powerless and bereft. She got up from the window seat and went to him to put her arms around him.

He surprised her again by backing away from her.

"Something has happened since I saw you last," she said, beginning to feel very uneasy. "What is it?" Anakin kept his distance. 

"Padmé, listen to me. I want you to trust me." Anakin paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I promise I will explain what I think is happening soon, but right now I need to spend the next two days with you away from here, preferably out in the wilderness."

"What?  Now?  Why?"

"Listen," he said, actively not touching her. "You are developing a strong connection with the Force – probably through me, but I don't really know. Without training, that makes you vulnerable for – well, vulnerable." He frowned, evidently not liking his own choice of words.

_What?  What is he talking about?_

"I'd like to teach you some things that might help you cope with it," he finished lamely.

"Are you telling me that you want to train me as a Jedi in two days?" In spite of himself, Anakin smiled a little. He seemed to have lost some of his dangerous edge.

"If I only could. But I can teach you some mind blocks and some techniques that will help you to control what happens a bit more."

Padmé thought about it, puzzled. She hadn't thought that it needed coping with.

"So why the wilderness?"

"The Force is strong in nature. Where it has not been corrupted, nature can be a powerful ally in learning the ways of the Force."

Padmé smiled. "You sounded just like Obi-Wan then."

Anakin sighed. "I have my own ways of teaching," he said. "Let's just go. Now."

_Before something happens?  _Padmé thought. But she never once considered not trusting him, not going away with him. Maybe she just wanted the extraordinary pleasure of his company for two uninterrupted days. She sighed. "You had better disappear for a while I make the arrangements." 

"Hurry," Anakin said, backing toward the door. Then he turned and fled. Padmé realized that he had not touched her once the whole time he had been there.

_* * * * *_

"No!" Sabé was livid. "She can't just have disappeared."

Dormé handed her a memorandum. "This was just sent out through all the usual channels. I only picked it up because the Queen's office called demanding an explanation. Imagine my embarrassment at not being informed of my own Mistress' plans."

Sabé snatched it and read it through quickly. "This is a lie," she said. "There is no such meeting. I'm almost sure of it." She read it again. "Two days? Where is she going for two days without any of us…?" She looked up suddenly. "He's gone, too, isn't he?"

"It is almost impossible to tell," Dormé said, "but no one has seen him today. Not even Balé."

Sabé thought for a moment and then said, "Wardrobe check." The two handmaidens sprinted toward the Senator's apartment and began systematically to look through her wardrobe and belongings for missing items that might give them a clue to their Mistress' whereabouts.

"What is she doing?" Dormé worried out loud. "She is too ill to be running around somewhere."

Almost nothing was missing. The entire luggage was in its place. They consulted the detailed lists that were always kept and checked them against the items in the wardrobes.

"Sleeping sack?" Sabé finally said, puzzled. "Walking boots? Rain gear?   They are all missing."

Dormé looked up in dismay. "Are you telling me she set up a clumsy meeting decoy to go camping? Now? Why would she do that?"

Sabé thought fast. "This means absolutely no one else on staff is involved. Any one of us could have come up with a better cover story!"

Dormé reached for the COM link and spoke to Captain Typho briefly. He was not aware of any changes in the Senator's itinerary but offered to verify the movements of all the official transports immediately.

Sabé reached for the link when she was done and put through a call to a certain guesthouse near the Spaceport. Master Kenobi had of course been offered accommodation in the Palace, but had declined for reasons of his own. He was not in.

"She has no right to do this," Sabé growled. "She has no right to change everything. I'm going to find her if it's the last thing I do."

* * * * *

It was mid-afternoon before a still-furious Sabé was able to locate the Jedi Knight and inform him that Senator Amidala had ostensibly left for an emergency meeting on the other side of Naboo for two days, and that she had gone unaccompanied except for his Padawan. Then she explained about the camping gear.

It was too late to stop them. They were long gone by now. _He has slipped though my grasp again, _Obi-Wan thought with real annoyance. _But this is the last time._

"There is no logic to this," he said to his companion.

Tec Andros looked thoughtfully out the window of Obi-Wan's room toward the Spaceport. He was wearing the dress uniform of a mid-level officer in the Republican Army, but his light saber was securely clipped to his belt under the tunic-length jacket. It was necessary to continue to give the impression that there was only one Jedi on Naboo.

"Now are you ready to act more aggressively?" Tec asked, still sorting out the known facts in his incisive and highly experienced mind.

"I have given him every opportunity," Obi-Wan said. "He has run out of chances to make the right decision on his own."

"Good." Tec followed a particular train of thought to its conclusion and turned around.

"I think he is trying to train her," he said. "I think he is trying to change the existing parameters to fit the outcome he wants." He smiled briefly. "It is an approach I have seen him use before." 

"I'm glad you're here, Tec. This thing has gotten completely out of hand."

"I serve," Tec said briefly. "Between the two of us he won't get far." _Some Padawan, _he thought, _to require two Jedi Knights to haul him home. The boy was trouble the likes of which he had never seen._

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. He had really wanted to avoid this.

"What's our next priority?" he asked.

"I'm certain the palace staff are doing everything in their power to locate the Senator," Tec said. "For the time being, let's turn our attention back to our D'laian friends." He looked out the window again. "Let's take a walk. And while we are walking you can tell me everything you know about the impression left by the Sith."

Obi-Wan agreed readily. Tec's strategy was right. Anakin's disappearance, however ill advised, gave them their best opportunity to draw out the assassins. He didn't mind being used as bait if Tec had his back. There were few shrewder or fiercer fighters in the Galaxy. The two Jedi Knights headed out into the streets of occupied Theed, confident that their combined skills were more than enough to handle whatever trouble lay ahead. 


	20. Chapter 20 Lessons

**Chapter 20. Lessons**

The forest was so dense and the trees around the small clearing loomed so high that the darkness seemed to swallow up the light from the warm, bright campfire. Padmé lay on her back, working out which stars she could actually identify between the jagged crowns of the trees. By rights she ought to be exhausted, but her mind felt as clear as still water. She kept her eyes on the stars straight above her while allowing her senses to register information about her surroundings. 

To her right was the warm, lively fire. To her left, behind the rim of tree trunks and thick underbrush, several living things were moving and snuffling at ground level. Under her head Anakin's thigh muscles flexed as he leaned forward to add more fuel to the fire. The edge of his cloak against her cheek felt thick and dense in contrast to the thin, temperature-responsive synthetic fabrics she wore. Beyond the fire – what was beyond the fire on the other side of the clearing?  She couldn't make her conscious awareness reach past the dancing flames.

Padmé reached up and tugged at the cloak. "How do you reach beyond the fire to sense what's behind it?

"I thought you would be fed up with this by now." Anakin's left hand found hers, and their fingers interlaced. He had long since given up keeping away from her. His new strategy was quite the opposite.

"It's – compelling." She didn't know how describe how it felt to see the world through completely different eyes. "It is as though you gave me new lenses that can see in, around and through things." She thought again, and then said dreamily, "It is as though I have been shown a spectrum of brand new colors, and I am trying to figure out what to call them." 

Padmé held her unattached hand up in front of her eyes and studied it. Beyond the outlines of her hand she saw a sheath of light. She wiggled her fingers and the light danced, but always remained close to her hand. She looked beyond her hand to the tops of the trees. They too were surrounded by a kind of light, although it looked different – darker, greener, quieter. She held up the hand that was entwined with Anakin's and watched the light sheaths surrounding all ten fingers blend and yet remain distinct. Hers and Anakin's looked different as well – the light around his was significantly brighter, the sheath bigger. It didn't surprise her.

"The fire," she prompted. "How do I see beyond it?" 

"See the fire first," he said. "Then find a way to do away with it in your mind's eye. Fade it out; turn it down; make it transparent, or whatever makes sense to you. Just decide that it will disappear. Then keep looking to see the backdrop."

He removed his fingers from hers and waited to see what would happen. Padmé turned her head to the side and gazed into the fire. She took it in as clearly as she could and created a mental image of it as he had taught her earlier in the day. Then she tried to make it vanish. At first, nothing happened. Then slowly she managed to make the image fade a bit. She strove to see behind it and thought she saw the trunks of the trees whose tops were visible above the fire. But then she became unsure that she was actually seeing anything. The fire jumped into her mental picture again and became brighter.

"I don't really know," she said. "I think I'm guessing."

Anakin took her hand in his again. "Try again now."

Padmé looked again. The bright fire vanished to her sight as though it had suddenly been blown out, and she looked through the resulting gloom toward the densely packed tree trunks on the other side of the clearing. Between many of them were pairs of glowing pinpoints of light. Suddenly, she realized what they were, and sat up suddenly in alarm. "Animals!  A whole ring of them – surrounding us!" She looked again, and saw only the fire.

Anakin laughed. "Very good," he said. "There are some behind us on this side, too."

Involuntarily Padmé looked behind her, and thought seriously about climbing into Anakin's lap. Dignity prevailed, and she remained where she was.

He looked down at her. "They have been there since dark. Think of them as the perimeter guards." _I suppose that was your doing as well. _Padmé was developing an even healthier respect for the abilities of a trained Jedi. And this one was still a Padawan learner.

"I saw the fire go down completely," Padmé said thoughtfully, "but the fact that their eyes were reflecting so brightly means that it was really there all of the time."

"Of course it was. You were just choosing not to see it for the moment so that you could see something else."

"Actually, Anakin," she sighed, settling back down into the general vicinity of his lap, "I think _you_ chose not to see it. For both of us. Like you have been doing all day. When you add your abilities to mine, I can do anything."

"Well," he was a bit defensive, "you have come a long way already."

"Surely this isn't the way you were taught." Padmé put both hands up again to play with the light sheaths around her fingers.

"Oh, no." Anakin laughed ruefully. "The proper way is to spend years training in these techniques. No help is ever given. The only way to truly master the Force is to allow the abilities to grow from inside. It takes time." _And we don't have time. The unspoken thought hung in the air between them. As an afterthought he added, "Obi-Wan wouldn't just kill me for doing this. He would have me kicked out of the Jedi Order without a hearing."_

Padmé tilted her head all the way back so she could look at him, albeit upside down. Her gaze met his. "Tell me again why I have canceled all my obligations to follow you around the wilds like this allowing you to well, to force-feed me the Force!"

"You like me," he said.

"Hah," she said indignantly. She reached back and thumped him with her illuminated hand.

"Seriously." Padmé took his hand in hers again, unwilling to let go of it for long. "What are we doing with this?  What are you trying to accomplish?"

"I only want two things." He bent down and kissed her forehead. "For now. I want to teach you to trust your feelings. If I show you what your awareness can be like, what the world looks like to the trained eye, then I'm hoping you won't doubt or second-guess your perceptions. I'm hoping that if you learn to trust your feelings and perceptions they might begin to feel normal and natural to you. It might make a difference."

_It might make a difference in what?_  She decided to reserve the question for later.

"And the second thing?"

"Tomorrow we work on mind blocks and ways of protecting yourself."

_From what? _That one, too.

"And now?"

"And now I think you have had more than enough of this." He reached over to the bundle he had been carrying all day and pulled out the capsule that contained the kind of shelter and sleeping sack suitable for a Senator of the Republic. He himself was content to wrap himself in his cloak on the ground.

"Not yet." Padmé sat up and unceremoniously climbed into his lap after all, sitting astride him so they were nose to nose. 

She waited. To her surprise, instead of taking her up on her unspoken invitation, Anakin sat quietly, with his living hand idly tracing the line on her back that he knew still held the long thin scar from the beast in the Geonosian arena. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"  

"This is all my fault. I was too blind to see it."

"Perhaps it is time you told me what has happened. What are you afraid of?"

Anakin wrapped his arms around her, as though trying to shield her from his words. "I'm afraid that you are in danger. Real danger."

Padmé groaned. "Not again. Who do you think it is?" There was a long, dark pause, while Anakin chose his words with exceptional care. Padmé waited quietly while enjoying the pleasure of being held. She believed herself prepared for any answer he could give her. When it came, she found that she had been wrong.

"It's me. You are in the worst kind of danger from me."

* * * * *

When Lord Tyrannus taught the D'laian conspirators to kill Jedi he kept the method deliberately simple. The warriors were not, after all, complex people.

_"First, lay a trap," he had said. "Use the Jedi's compassion against them."_

Night had fallen by the time Obi-Wan and Tec had completed their purposeful walk around the City of Theed. Obi-Wan had been seen everywhere. They had spent a good deal of time in and around the spaceport district, around the Palace and in the Temple district. They stopped at a busy inn for dinner and then resolved to do one more circuit of the outlying areas near the spaceport. So far their senses had not indicated anything unusual.

They were on a narrow street lined with small taverns and guesthouses near the spaceport when they heard screams and the sound of blaster fire. As one, the two Jedi ran toward the disturbance. People were running out of a small tavern. Obi-Wan ignited his light saber and stepped inside. Remaining in disguise Tec lagged behind him, not yet touching his weapon. 

Four men seemed to be armed with blasters. _A robbery or a personal dispute, _Obi-Wan thought, until he recognized the Force-signatures. 

_A trap, then, _he corrected himself, unafraid. He relaxed, increasing his inner strength with each breath. The Force gathered to him, ready to be channeled by the slightest hint of will.

"Everyone out," he said firmly. "Clear the room. Jedi business."

All but the armed men left. They waited, confirming Obi-Wan's assessment of the situation. He could feel Tec's presence just outside the door. Behind Tec in the street he could suddenly sense two more men in the shadows who might be part of this group. _Tec will take care of them, _he thought, turning his focus back to the group that was quickly moving to surround him.

_"Make certain the one you seek to kill is alone," Lord Tyrannus had continued. "Make the first move – a Jedi will not. Attack aggressively. He will not expect it. The Jedi are accustomed to being approached with great caution."_

_They are attacking me using mere daggers, _Obi-Wan realized as the four men assailed him swiftly and aggressively at the same time with blades, not blasters. _What are they thinking_?  _Why do they insist on fighting with a Jedi at close quarters?_ Waiting until the first dagger came close to his body he used the Force to deflect its momentum, unbalancing his assailant and throwing him back until he smashed into the bar. In a fluid motion Obi-Wan turned to stop the second assailant who had aimed a dagger at the middle of his spine. His light saber cut through the man's wrist, sending it and the dagger flying. _This is absurd, _he thought, stopping the third attacker with two swift passes of his light saber as the man threw himself toward his neck, blade outstretched.

The fourth attacker came at him from the side, not holding a dagger, but with a small oblong object with two prongs strapped to his hand.

**Padawan! Beware!**

Instantaneously Obi-Wan obeyed Qui-Gon's voice, as he had always done, and wrenched his body forward. It was only because of this movement that the prongs embedded themselves in his side and not straight into his heart. The Jedi Knight lost consciousness immediately as a series of synchronized harmonic sounds entered his chest.

_"Your real weapon, of course," Lord Tyrannus had continued, "is this." He pushed a small gleaming box with two long prongs at one end toward the warrior. "When activated, it will disrupt the Jedi's ability to use the Force and stop him instantly." He contemplated the object with some pride. Based on an ancient weapon he had personally unearthed from the D'laian's sorcery-fearing history, he had re-designed it to be automatic rather than relying on the skill of the user. These assassins would be the first non-Force-sensitive fighters to test it. And what better subject for the test than his great enemy, that too-powerful Jedi Padawan? _

The D'laian who had felled Obi-Wan was triumphant.

"Not so powerful after all, are you, Jedi?"

They were his dying words. Tec surged into the room as soon as he felt the disruption in the Force and cut down the assassin where he stood. As he did so he felt a violent jolt of pain and weakness. The box was still active. Gathering all of his will he cut it in half with his light saber, cutting through the hand to which it was still attached. 

The entire attack had taken only seconds.

* * * * *

Tec stood back panting for a moment until he heard Obi-Wan moan. Rushing to him he found him barely alive, with severe Force disruptions throughout his body. Taking him into his arms Tec poured what energy he could into him, while shouting for help to the curious onlookers who were beginning to drift back into the tavern.

_This isn't supposed to happen,_ Tec thought_. This shouldn't be possible. A Jedi Knight like Obi-Wan should not die in this way._

He held his brother and friend in his arms on the grimy tavern floor and mourned while a strong breeze whirled through the stuffy tavern.

**He will live, **said Qui-Gon Jinn's voice through the Force. **He will live.**

Tec could not hear him.

* * * * *

_Not so powerful after all, are you, Jedi?_

Anakin awoke out of a thin and fragile sleep feeling that there had been a sudden wrenching disturbance in the Force. He could not attribute it but he had heard the words clearly.

It took him a moment to understand where he was. 

Looking up he saw the dark tops of trees silhouetted against a slightly lighter sky and it all came back to him.

The fire was low but had not yet burned down to embers. He had not been asleep long. Padmé was curled up against him, breathing quietly. At least she was getting a little sorely needed peace after the stunned anguish Anakin's confession had caused her. He tried not to disturb her.

He wondered whether the words he had heard were meant for him. Their intent, their coloration seemed somehow familiar.

Padmé moved restlessly against him and he gently settled her tear-marked face more comfortably into the crook of his arm.

_Not powerful enough? Or too powerful_? Anakin wondered forlornly. _What does it matter, if I am not allowed to love?_

Anakin settled back down into his cloak and stared into the darkness. 


	21. Chapter 21 the Gift

**Chapter 21. The Gift**

"Anakin, stop."

He looked behind him to find that Padmé had sunk to her knees on the stony slope they had been climbing for some time. He went back and crouched down beside her.

"This isn't going to work, is it?" she asked looking straight into his eyes.

"No," he admitted. "I don't think so."

"Then let's just stop," she said softly. Grief was weighing on her so heavily that she could barely put one foot in front of the other. After a desperate night together in the forest clearing they had resolutely spent the day continuing Anakin's plan of trying to teach Padmé to use the Force to shield herself. A few simple experiments had made it clear that while she had learned a good deal, nothing would change the basic reality of their situation. For the last two hours, walking up the forested slopes of the Stonefoot Mountain, Padmé had begun to accept the truth.

She turned around to face the valley below and foothills and plains beyond. The setting sun cast long fingers of gold and red over the rolling landscape. Anakin sat down behind her and enfolded her in his arms. 

"So this is the end." Padmé forced herself to say it out loud.

"I can't think of another way out," he conceded unhappily.

"Unless…unless you stay here. With me."

Anakin groaned. "You know I would, if it would help. You know I would. But it would be worse for you." They had been though this before. "You would very quickly lose your independence. If I go now you will recover, in time."

"So…" Padmé said, trying to form a picture of the rest of her life, "we go our separate ways. You return to the Temple and finish your training. I continue in the Senate. We inhabit the same Galaxy. We often live and work on Coruscant at the same time. But we never see each other again."

"It's either that," Anakin said grimly, "or we do see each other. But we never get really close. And I'm always heavily shielded around you."

It sounded like a vision of eternal darkness and misery.

"I can't imagine living like that," Padmé said.

"Neither can I."

As the sun moved closer to the horizon darkness gathered quickly.

"I don't know how to do this," she whispered after a while. She reached up and grasped his gloved right hand. "I envy this hand. It doesn't feel." Sorrow was like a stone weighing on her heart. 

Anakin was struggling with his own demons. Denial and distraction usually kept them at bay. But he could no longer deny the truth. And worst of all, there seemed to be no comfort from his old friend, anger. There was no one to blame, except maybe himself, and all the rage in the world would not make things the way he wanted them to be. Unleashed, his demon voices rose to the surface and taunted him with his fears and his failings. There was nowhere to hide.

"Anakin," Padmé said after a while. "Let down the rest of your shielding. Please."

"I…I shouldn't. It's only going to be worse for you."

"One last time. I want to remember what it's like to be one, not two."

Anakin hesitated. He wanted to, but this was probably the worst part of the problem: this merging where the boundaries between them fell away.

"I want your soul," she said fiercely. "I want to know everything that is inside of you."

"All that pain?" he asked. "Is that what you want?"

"I just want you. All of you."

Anakin succumbed. He couldn't deny her anything. Slowly he let go of his mental shielding and allowed the Force to flow between them without barriers. He adjusted his breathing until the rhythm matched hers perfectly. Gradually he adjusted his heartbeat until their pulses were indistinguishable. More and more barriers opened. He released his mind and his feelings until they were experiencing each other's thoughts and emotions as their own. He let go. He let go. He let go.

He let go more than he ever had before. __

Padmé willingly received everything he gave her. She took on his grief and his love and his drive to make everything better and his rage at being powerless. She let herself drown in his love and passion for her and rejoiced at his devotion to his mother, and Balé and Obi-Wan. She accepted his contradictions and judged nothing. She even faced off against his darkest demons – fear and loneliness. His fear was not difficult to face. It was much like her own – a desperate fear of losing her. Of failure. Of letting people down. Of not being good enough. These were fears Padmé understood well.

The hardest demon to face was his loneliness. She had never experienced it in such depth. She understood with crushing clarity that without her, he would have no one. No one at all.

For his part Anakin could only lose himself in her love for him. It was vast. It was pure. And it filled every empty space he had ever had inside.

After a time Anakin could feel Padmé's consciousness slipping away into a kind of meditative trance. It was an overwhelming experience for her and one she could not hold onto for long. He continued to hold her carefully, body and mind, acutely conscious of what it would feel like to her when he withdrew. And when he went away altogether.

Obi-Wan had been right. He could not protect her. 

_I have harmed her, _he thought. _The person I love most in the world. I have harmed her and I cannot keep her from more pain. _

Why should she be the one to suffer?  He would take all the pain on himself if he only could. If only the Force didn't follow him always. 

_Stay, _he said to it. _Stay with her._

The Force flowed and surged between them, knowing no boundaries. Making no distinctions.

S_tay, _he said again, willing the vague outline of an etheric boundary between himself and Padmé. 

The flow of the Force changed, circling back to Padmé when it reached the barrier. 

Intrigued, Anakin went exploring. He strengthened the boundary. It wavered. He began to shut down various energy points in his own body. With each one the flow pattern changed again, gradually remaining more and more within her and withdrawing from him.

_Stay with her, _he directed. _I don't need you. Without her I don't need anything. _

Encouraged by his initial success he continued to shut down and create barriers against the Force, damming it and closing it off and forcing it to flow and remain where he wished. He could feel the Force leaving him bit by bit, and gradually he began to lose his ability to work with it. He struggled to close down more access points and strengthen the barrier before he lost consciousness completely. He was deeply satisfied with his work.

_Leave me, _he ordered. _Stay with her. _

A stiff breeze arose on the mountainside, whirling around the two unconscious figures that lay in each other's arms, ruffling their clothing and whipping the leaves from the trees. Neither one responded to it.

Anakin found himself drifting. He couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing. He had a sense of urgency, but didn't know why.

**Anakin. **He heard a familiar voice.

**Anakin, listen to me.**

_Master Jinn. Where are you?_

**Anakin. You have a job to do. **

_Why did you leave me, Master?  I have missed you._

**Anakin. There is a third way. Your job is to find the third way. The way of balance. **

_I don't know how, Master. _

**Go back to the Temple. Learn about the Living Force. It will show you your path.**

_I want to stay here with you, Master. Please._

**Promise you will return to the Temple.**

Anakin hesitated.

**Promise!**

_I promise._

**Anakin. Breathe!**

_I don't want to. I like it here._

**Anakin!  Take a breath!  Now!**

Anakin obeyed, as he had always obeyed Master Jinn, and immediately regretted it. It felt as though his lungs were filling with fire.

**Breathe, Anakin!  Keep breathing!**

The pain was horrific. But he did it again. And again. Each one was worse than the last. 

_Master Jinn?  May I stop now?_

There was no answer. His lungs seemed to have developed a mind of their own and he could no longer stop breathing. He just had to endure it.

* * * * *

Padmé woke up feeling disoriented. It was completely dark and a bright moon had risen, casting everything around her in an eerie light. She felt stiff, and there was a cold, insistent breeze whirling around her face. It seemed to be the thing that had woken her up.

"Anakin?"

There was no answer. She reached for him and recoiled. He felt cold as ice. 

Padmé threw herself on him, taking his face in her hands. His skin was cold and dry and he was unnaturally still. Her fingers slid down his face to his throat, searching for a pulse. There was none. She put her hands on his chest. There was no movement.

"Anakin!"

She tried shaking him, but there was no response. In the moonlight her golden boy looked gray and lifeless. She was horrified.

Padmé suddenly thought to look at her hands. She could see a bright golden sheath of light dancing around them. It was brighter than she had ever seen it before. A hideous thought made her dive for his hand and look for the sheath of light that had always been there. She could not see one.

_Oh, Anakin, what have you done? _she thought desperately as she tilted his head back and started giving him the kiss of life. She had no way of knowing how long he had gone without breathing.

_You can't be dead, _she thought frantically as she set up a rhythm to try to resuscitate him. _I won't let you be!_

She felt desperation set in when he still didn't respond after a few cycles. _Anakin. Breathe!  she thought furiously._

Then he gasped. It was an awful, painful sound. She kept going, and was rewarded with some more horrific gasps. Little by little his lungs took over. When it felt safe to let him breathe on his own she scrambled around for his cloak and her sleeping sack and wrapped him in them as best she could. He had a faint, irregular heartbeat and that horrible, ragged breathing but she couldn't seem to get him warmer. Desperately she wrapped herself around him under the covers to add her warmth to his. Only then did she notice that his breathing eased a bit and he warmed a little to her touch. She remained there, not daring to move, and not knowing how to get help.

* * * * *

"Two degrees north," Sabé shouted to Captain Typho over the noise of the hover ship. She clutched the data pad on which she had superimposed the readout from the infrared scan onto the night map. They weren't far. 

"What are they doing here?" Typho yelled back to her. "This is Stonefoot Mountain."

Sabé had hesitated for a long time to enlighten the good Captain about his beloved mistress' Jedi-related activities. She was sure he couldn't handle knowing the truth. It would shatter his orderly world.

On the other hand, the whole situation had gone wildly out of control. Typho's help would be required in many ways. He had to know. It was better that he heard it from her than from someone else. What if they found them in a compromising situation on the mountain?  The poor man would fall apart.

She explained it to him as best she could over the rhythmic pounding of the engine. Typho was appalled. 

Separately, they both imagined how furious Padmé would be that they had tracked her down.

"There!" Sabé shouted and the Captain's stunned attention had to be diverted to finding a suitable landing site. It was difficult, even though they were using one of the smaller hover ships.

Whatever Sabé had expected to find, reality bore no resemblance to it. As soon as the hover ship landed Padmé ran to it like a wild woman. Instead of being angry at having been tracked and found she was desperately relieved. "Get on the COM!  she shouted. "Alert the medical center that we are bringing in an emergency!"

"Now come here and help me!" she ordered when the call had been made.

It took the efforts of the Captain and both women to carry Anakin's all but lifeless form across the stony terrain and load it onto the hover ship. The entire time Padmé said nothing to either Sabé or Captain Typho unless she was giving an order. Neither one could come up with a plausible explanation of what had happened. Nor was one forthcoming.

"Go." Ordered Padmé when they were all on board. "Best speed." Sabé helped her mistress wrap Anakin in all the available blankets, and then sat back while Padmé arranged herself beside him and held his hand between her own two.

Padmé didn't say a word to her the entire journey. Sabé didn't press her. Anakin looked and sounded like death itself. The Captain thought it best to keep his mind completely on his work.

_Everything has changed, _Sabé thought, looking at her Mistress' anguished face. _Nothing will ever be the same again. All the way home she wondered what would happen to them all now._

* * * * *

Master Yoda opened his eyes wide, certain of what he had seen but astounded that it was possible. 

He sent out a powerful message through the Force calling the Council together. Its urgency was so great that throughout the Temple and elsewhere in Coruscant eleven Jedi lurched into awareness and practically fell over themselves to arrive at the Council chamber as quickly as possible.

In a remarkably short period of time the entire Council had assembled. All eyes turned to Master Yoda.

"Successfully performed a Life-Force transference, Padawan Skywalker has," he said without introduction.

There was a stunned silence in the Chamber.

"You know this?" Mace Windu asked.

"I know this," Master Yoda said firmly. That was enough evidence for all the Council members.

"He is dead, then," said Ki-Adi-Mundi.

"He lives still," countered Yoda. "Barely, but he lives."

Eleven Council members practically stopped breathing with shock. There was a long silence while they each tried to absorb the information in their own way.

"Who is the recipient?" Mace Windu finally asked.

"Senator Amidala of Naboo," said Yoda, gravely.

A murmur rippled around the chamber.

"Do we know why?" Mace persisted.

The ancient Master closed his eyes for a while. "Clouded, the reasons are."

"He must be the Chosen One," declared Ki-Adi-Mundi. "The Life-Force transference has only been performed three times in Jedi history. And each time it claimed the life of the giver."

"Yet he lives," said Master Yoda. "He lives."

"Obi-Wan must bring him to us immediately."

Mace Windu spoke up. "Obi-Wan Kenobi lies severely injured as a result of an attack meant for Skywalker. An attack that bears the hallmark of the Sith" He paused before adding the next piece of information. "A new kind of harmonic Force-disruptor was used in the attack."

"Know what Skywalker is, do the Sith," Yoda concluded grimly. "Great danger for him. Great danger for us all."

The Jedi Council chamber filled with a deep silence as each Council member reflected on the profound implications of the news.

"The winds of change are rising," Master Windu said finally.

**Then set sail, **said Qui-Gon Jinn from within the Force. **Set sail.**

Only Master Yoda heard him.


	22. Chapter 22 Promises

**Chapter 22. Promises**

So this was the woman. 

Tech Andros observed her with interest as she introduced herself and stated her business. A Senator and former Queen. One would think that she would behave more responsibly and take more care with her reputation. Of course she wanted to know the status of Kenobi and the Padawan. He explained what he could in layman's terms. Kenobi would recover, in time. The Padawan's status was uncertain. Only Jedi healers would be able to determine the long-term effects of his actions.

He was most interested in her Force presence. It was indeed strong, although of course undefined. She was after all untrained. But the signature was definitely hers. The boy had really done it. Whatever he had given her had become her own. Tec was fascinated.

"Master Andros," Padmé was saying, "the medical staff is under orders not to allow Master Kenobi or Anakin to receive visitors. They tell me that those orders came from you. I would like to see them."

Tec turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

"I don't think it is a good idea, Senator," he said coolly. "They are both very weak and require uninterrupted rest."

"Surely you can make an exception for me."

Tec thought she was the last person for whom one should make an exception.

"When Master Kenobi is stronger and asks to see you I will of course make the arrangements. But the Padawan is being removed to Coruscant as soon as possible. I'm afraid there won't be an opportunity for you to see him."

Her eyes glittered. "Not even to say goodbye?"

"No, Senator," Tec said firmly. "Not even to say goodbye."

She stood silent, frozen. Tec could feel the pounding waves of fury coming from her, but she held herself firmly in hand. Remarkable.

"Very well," the woman finally said, mildly enough. "I will not bother you again."

Tec was surprised that she had given in so easily, considering how furious she was. That was not her reputation. He resolved to watch her carefully. 

She turned to leave without another word.

"Senator!" Tec called, before she had reached the door. "When you are in Coruscant we will need you to come to the Temple for evaluation. The healers must study the effects of the Padawan's…action…on you."

Padmé turned around.

"You are asking for my cooperation."

"Yes."

"In return for none of your own."

Tec was taken aback. "Be reasonable, Senator. Haven't you done enough damage already?"

The Senator from Naboo turned on her heel and left him without a backward glance.

* * * * *

Anakin woke up the moment he heard Padmé's voice.

"Get out, all of you," she was saying. "Now."

"But My Lady," someone protested, "No visitors are allowed in here except Master Andros." 

"Clear the room. Now." Padmé said in a tone that brooked no argument. Anakin could not see that she had brought a contingent of the Queen's Own Guard, in full dress uniform. "Queen's business!" Through a haze of pain he heard the sound of scuffling and of heavy boots. "Guard this door and don't let anyone in until I come out. Especially Master Andros." A door closed.

Anakin's face didn't respond very well but he smiled inside.

He loved it when she got fierce.

Her hand touched him and his vision cleared enough to see her.

"_Padmé," _he tried. Nothing much came out. "Padmé," he tried again, and his breath managed to carry the sound of her name.

"You look better," she said softly, all her fierceness gone. Anything was better than the corpse on the mountainside.

"…Love you," Anakin managed, after a struggle. He was far too tired to attempt to say anything that wasn't very, very important.

"I know." How could she not know? Master Andros' brief explanation of what had happened to Anakin had made it clear enough what he had given up for her. No one knew what the long-term effects of his actions would be. He might well have relinquished his ability to use the Force.

But he was alive, and seemed to be improving a little. That was all that mattered to her.

Padmé stroked his forehead and found that his skin was clammy and cold. She tucked the blankets around him more securely and found his hand. Anakin's fingers tried to grasp hers and failed. She wrapped hers around them firmly.

He felt so much better in her presence. The pain was beginning to subside a bit.

"How is…Master Obi?" he asked after a while. That was important, too. He had only been informed of his Master's condition a short time ago.

"He is better. Furious with you, of course. It was a Force-disruption, so he probably feels as bad as you do. But it wasn't as...damaging…as what you did." She stopped to fight back tears. "Master Andros only leaves his side to come see you." _Or to put me in my place._

Anakin had a dim memory of a shadowy figure that might have been Master Andros hovering over him. He associated it with warm, wonderful energy surging throughout his body. He must remember to thank him.

He was beginning to feel rather warm and wonderful now, too. For a while he enjoyed floating in her presence.

"Anakin, can you hear me?"

_"Yes." _He tried again. "Yes."

"Anakin, you gave me a gift. A gift I don't really understand. But whatever you gave me…I'm well now. It's staying with me." Well was an understatement. She was vibrantly healthy. She had boundless energy. It was a tiny glimpse of what it must have been like to be Anakin.

He was glad.

"Anakin, I want to give you something in return."

Give? He tried to focus. What was she talking about? He had done harm. Had to help.

Silly.

"Anakin?"

There was a pause while he drifted back. "Here."

"I want to give you something. I want you to come away with me for two days. Just two days."

It all came flooding back to him. His pledge. His promise to Master Jinn.

He was silent for a long time.

When Padmé looked at him more closely she saw that his face was soaking wet with tears that he was too weak to wipe away. She quickly looked around for a cloth to wipe his face before he drowned.

"I…I have to…leave here. I promised…Master."

"I know," Padmé said, assuming he was talking about Obi-Wan. "I know you have to go. I just want two days. After that I won't interfere with what you have to do. I promise." Despite recent events, Padmé still understood duty well. Besides, she wanted to be sure that he received all the healing the Jedi could give him.

"Anakin, I love you," her heard her say.

He felt torn in pieces.

"Padmé. Hold me," he asked, shivering.

He felt her slide under the blankets and wrap herself around him. He started to feel warmer and happier immediately. _The Force is strong with her,_ he thought briefly, having momentarily forgotten just why that might be the case.

Padmé held him as though she could stop him from ever disappearing again.

Sabé had been right, of course. With her usual sharp perception she had understood that everything had changed for her mistress that night on the mountain. Everything that Padmé had thought and felt since then had been colored by the memory of her wild grief when she thought that Anakin was gone. 

Who was this strange, mercurial, passionate, gifted boy who loved her unconditionally and had laid siege to her from the first moment he saw her?

How long had it been since he had reappeared in her life? Hardly any time at all. And during that time she had hesitated and pushed him away and doubted him and herself and acted as though they had all the time in the world. And all because she had been afraid to follow him down a new path.

Then she had lost him, only to get another chance.

And now the Jedi were claiming him back.

Padmé could not endure losing him again. She would not allow it.

"Anakin," she said, her breath warm on his cheek,  "I think we should get married."

If he hadn't been lying down already he would have fallen over. There was a long silence while he struggled to understand.

"Married?" He tried out the word. She had his full attention.

"No one needs to know. In fact, no one should know. Not my staff. Not Obi-Wan. No one." _This is how far I've come, _Padmé acknowledged inwardly.

Anakin shifted unhappily. "I…have to go."

"I know. But think. If we get married, you can still go. But we won't be apart. Not really." Padmé pulled herself up on her elbow so she could look into his eyes. "You'll have a home. Someone to come back to. You'll have me."

Anakin swallowed, wishing he had the strength to reach up and touch her. "You are…my home."

Padmé smiled. "I know. It's so clear. We'll get married. And no matter what happens, they'll never be able to separate us."

It was so simple, once he understood what she was proposing. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself. Hope started to dawn in him, and swiftly grew brighter. 

Still…he wondered.

He searched her face.

"You…want me?"

Padmé knew exactly what he was asking. _Do you want me like this?_

"You're mine," she said, possessively tracing the lines of his face with her fingers. Smoothing his hair. Straightening his braid. Some of the fierceness had crept back into her voice. "You belong to me. I will not let you go." 

It was enough to reassure him. He had heard that tone of voice before.

"Married," Anakin said again. He pictured it. Having her. Belonging. His heart was filling up with sunshine.

After a while another thought floated into the bright picture.

"Balé?"

Padmé kissed him gently, making him shiver all over again. "You'll have to help me raise her."

Family. The sun in Anakin's heart became hot enough to melt ice.

"This is…your gift?" He finally grasped it.

"This is why I need two days."

Anakin pictured Obi-Wan's response to a request for more time together.

"Master…won't…let."

"It doesn't matter," said Padmé. "We will find a way."

"Married." Anakin said for the third and last time, burning brightly with something that felt like pure joy. "Yes."

The sound of voices outside the door made Padmé slip out from under the covers and back into her chair. Anakin sighed and shifted, trying to find the warmth she had taken with her. 

The door opened and Master Andros entered the room like a dark cloud. The Queen's Own must be weak-minded after all.

Padmé smiled at him from her chair.

"He looks better, doesn't he, Master Andros? It is comforting to know that he is receiving such good care."

"I think this visit is over," said Tec shortly. "He needs his rest."

Padmé stood up gracefully, bent over Anakin and said, "I'll see you soon."

Without another glance at the scowling Jedi Knight she brushed past him and left the room.


	23. Chapter 23 Confrontations

**Chapter 23. Confrontations**

In many ways Anakin's recovery was nothing short of remarkable. One day he had been, for all intents and purposes, dead. The next he was drifting in and out of consciousness. On the third day he could more or less sit up.

Master Andros appeared at Anakin's bedside and had a good look at him. Anakin managed to hold his gaze fairly steadily.

"Right," said Master Andros. "You'll do. Master Kenobi wants you."

Anakin found himself bundled up, carried to the next room and dumped, not too gently, onto the chair by Obi-Wan's bed. He struggled to remain upright. The Force certainly was strong with Master Andros. Anakin had an overwhelming urge to behave.

Obi-Wan looked stronger, too. He was sitting up in bed with his arms crossed. Anakin had the feeling that he might be in trouble again, and wondered generally how he could have managed to trespass while confined to his bed in a semi-conscious state. Lost somewhere between pain and bliss he had forgotten that most of his recent behavior did not in any way fall within the boundaries of what was expected of a Jedi Padawan learner. 

"Hello, Master," he said affably. "I'm glad to see you're better."

Suspicious of Anakin's good humor, Obi-Wan looked at him appraisingly. "Why do you want to delay your departure for two days?" He confined himself to the issue at hand. He couldn't even begin to deal with what Anakin had done on the mountain.

Anakin couldn't remember having made the request, but he tried to rise to the occasion. Everything seemed a bit beyond his grasp lately, but even in his weakened state he understood how important it was that the marriage remain secret.

"I want to say goodbye," he said.

"You can do that here. Now."

Anakin tried to think while his head felt has though it was being pounded with something hard.

"I need to get stronger, "he tried.

Master Andros laughed out loud. "I can throw you over my shoulder and take you to our ship right now, he said. "You're fine to travel."

He had a point.

Anakin was grappling with the problem when Padmé stepped out of the shadows at the far corner of the room. He hadn't even realized she was there.

_I have a long way to go, _he thought.

"Master Kenobi," she said, using his formal title in the presence of another Jedi, "I know it's an unusual request, but I am formally asking you to grant Anakin two days' leave before he returns to Coruscant. He will be under my care and I will see to it personally that he arrives at his transport as scheduled."

"Why do you want two days?" Obi-Wan asked again. Perhaps she could give him a better answer than Anakin had.

"I owe Anakin a great debt," she said, trying not to stray too far into lies. "I would like to take my leave of him in a way that honors that. Please, Master Kenobi. This was my idea. I would like you to give him – us – two days. Then I won't interfere any more."

Tec Andros thought it was the most inappropriate request he had ever heard. Anakin's return to Coruscant was strictly Jedi business, and long overdue. The Senator had no jurisdiction, and her behavior had been as unacceptable as the Padawan's. She must not be allowed to have anything more to do with him.

"You have no right to ask that," he said bluntly to both of them.

Padmé lost her patience. 

"What do you think this is?" she snapped, "A casual affair? Do you think that you can end it just by putting him on your ship and taking him away?" She gestured toward Anakin, who was beginning to enjoy himself. "Look at him!  What do you think that was all about? Do you think he will forget all about me just because you wish it?"

"Not a chance," said Anakin helpfully. 

Obi-Wan glowered at him. Anakin smiled back genially. He wasn't at all afraid of his Master or of the Council now that they couldn't force him away from Padmé. She wanted him. He was going to marry her one way or another. For now he was taking great pleasure in watching his warrior bride at battle.

"Then how in the name of all that is rational will two days help?" Obi-Wan countered, his voice rising. He was losing his patience, too.

"It would give us an opportunity for a civilized leave-taking," Padmé shot back. "One that gives some credence to our needs as well as yours. Anakin may be accustomed to being treated like a rebellious child, but I am not. As far as I am concerned I do have a right to ask because this affects me as much as it does you, or Anakin, or the Order." 

Padmé stepped forward and put her hand on Anakin's shoulder, laying claim to him, while the two Jedi Masters looked at her in uncompromising silence. Anakin glowed.

"I have said that I will see to it that he returns to his duties on schedule and that I will not interfere after that," she finished in the tone she reserved for particularly obstinate colleagues, "and I meant it." 

Obi-Wan could feel shock waves of disapproval rolling off Tec. He contemplated his ruined Padawan and the passionate Senator. Their obvious continued connection was a problem. They weren't even trying to hide it.

"The Jedi Council is awaiting Anakin's immediate return," he said flatly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Master Kenobi," demanded Padmé Amidala, Senator, former Queen of the Naboo, and the only living recipient of a Jedi Life-Force transference in the Galaxy, "show a little backbone and make a decision on your own!"

"_That,"_ thought Anakin with deepest satisfaction, _"Is my wife." _Well, almost.

"I do not doubt your sincerity or your word, Senator," Obi-Wan said, stung, "but there has been nothing in Anakin's recent behavior that would lead me to believe that I can trust that he will do as he says."

"I promised that I will return," said Anakin resolutely, "and I will."

By now Obi-Wan's outrage was beginning to rival Tec's. He glared at his Padawan. 

But Anakin sat on his chair looking calm and…well…centered. There was nothing edgy or sullen or rebellious about him. He suffered from a tremor that Obi-Wan attributed to the effort of sitting upright but his gaze was straightforward and open. In fact, the suspicious part of Obi-Wan's mind told him that his Padawan looked too peaceful. He ought to be heartbroken right about now. Surely he understood that he couldn't see Padmé any more after this.

On the other hand, the boy clearly wasn't operating at full capacity. Until they got him back to the Temple there was no way of knowing how badly his mind had been damaged by his heedless use of the Force on the mountain. Obi-Wan thought sadly that this personality change of Anakin's was probably a bad sign.

_Don't do it!  _Tec thought urgently, knowing that the decision was ultimately Obi-Wan's. _Assert the authority of the Order now!_

Obi-Wan understood far better than Tec that if he wasn't careful, there was a real danger that these two might vanish together and never be seen again. It was unwise to underestimate their attachment. Padmé Amidala certainly had the resources to make it happen. And if they did disappear, the Jedi Order would lose all control over the situation.

If Anakin came willingly there was a chance they could work with him. It was essential that they learn how he had accomplished and survived something that no other Jedi could. And he was so badly damaged that there was little likelihood of his going rogue any time soon. Until they got him back to the Temple there was no way of knowing whether Anakin would ever again be what he once was. But they had to be certain.

_The Sith will still be looking for him,_ Obi-Wan thought._ The only place we can keep him safe is in the Temple. And the only way to keep the Order safe is to keep Anakin safe._

"Two days," Padmé said meaningfully. "It's a good offer."

There wasa fraught pause during which Tec made use of calming techniques while Obi-Wan assessed the ultimatum he had just been given. _Two days or no Anakin. _She was putting her career and reputation on the line. No amount of political influence could save her from the wrath of the Jedi Order if she failed.

"Two days," he finally agreed, grimly. "But only because of your request and your personal guarantee, Senator. Surely I don't have to outline the consequences to you personally if this deadline is not met." To Anakin he said, with real menace, "If you don't turn up on schedule the entire Jedi Order will hunt you down."

"I'll be the first one to find you and finish what you started out on the mountain," Tec growled. He couldn't believe what Obi-Wan had just done.

Anakin felt a surge of white-hot anger that cut straight through the pain and chills. 

"I find your lack of faith disturbing, Master," he said in a low and even tone. "I gave my word, and I will be responsible for keeping it. And I suggest you don't threaten Padmé that way again."

Her hand gently squeezing his shoulder was the only thing that stopped him from going further. 

_Blast, _thought Obi-Wan. _They are strong together_. _This isn't over. _

Tec would have agreed.

* * * * *

"Lord Tyrannus. Welcome back." The heavily cloaked figure waited until the Count came close and had bowed to him, and then indicated that they should walk. Count Dooku took care to fall into step with his Master as they slowly circled the abandoned hangar where they sometimes met. 

"What news do you bring?"

He is testing me, thought Dooku. As always.

"The device works, My Master." Dooku thought he would bring the good news first. 

"Oh?  Which Jedi is no more?"

Dooku hesitated. "Kenobi was badly injured. But the assassins did not know there was another."

"I see." Sidious was very familiar with the power of two.

Dooku wondered uncomfortably whether his Master had divined the real target of the attack and was relieved when the conversation took another direction.

"Are you still confident that these D'laians are worth the time you have invested in them?" Sidious asked.

Count Dooku framed his answer carefully. "I have spent enough time among them to know that they are fearless. And they certainly have no love for the Jedi." He thought about the years he had spent on D'lai after leaving the Order. Yes, he was confident in his recommendation. "I believe that with proper training they will be a valuable asset." He paused. "They are very easy to motivate."

"Very well," his Master decided, understanding perfectly. "Use whatever funds you need. Begin your training program immediately. We will have need of them soon enough."

"Yes, my Master," the Count said obediently, believing he had escaped detection.

"And Naboo?" Sidious continued his cross-examination. 

Satisfied that the conversation had turned into a safe direction, Dooku responded with a littlemore enthusiasm. "Some incidents are being prepared that will make the Naboo grateful for thei…protection."

"Good." Sidious continued his slow circuit around the hangar. "Then it's time the Senator returns to Coruscant. I don't want her on Naboo interfering."

"Yes, My Master." 

There was a long silence. The Count knew better than to break it.

"There has been a significant disturbance in the Force," Sidious finally said. "Did you notice it?"

"No, My Master," Count Dooku replied, cautiously.

"Curious," said the Sith Master. "It took place around young Skywalker." There was a conspicuous pause. "He is never out of my awareness."

Dooku fought down a momentary burst of fear and said nothing.

"I have invested a great deal of time in him," Sidious went on. "You must help me make certain that anything that happens to him is of my own making."

"Yes, My Master." Dooku found the fear harder and harder to push down.

"As long as we understand one another, my friend."

"Yes, My Master."

Sidious nodded and waved him away. "I will call you when I need you." He continued walking while Count Dooku bowed deeply to him and backed away.

* * * * *

_I never expected him to be that clumsy_, the Sith Master thought, dismissing his devoted servant from his mind while his thoughts turned again to the boy. 

He must try not to be too impatient. But this kind of delight was very hard to contain. Even he had not anticipated that the boy's gifts would show up so startlingly. 

The Jedi could be counted upon to throttle young Skywalker's passion and creativity in order to try to control him. They were always so afraid of the larger, deeper aspects of the Force. They would contain him and limit him to a bursting point. And eventually he would break free.

It was all so deliciously predictable.

_And then…and then…he will find his true home in me_. The thought resonated in the deepest part of his being, and gave him a knot of dark pleasure that he went back to savor again and again.


	24. Chapter 24 The Way Home

**Chapter 24. The Way Home**

As soon as Anakin was given leave to go Padmé put all of her considerable energy and resources into getting them to the Lake House. It was the only place she felt safe from prying eyes. She allowed only a small, handpicked service staff to accompany them. Sabé was so angry at being excluded from her confidence that they were barely on speaking terms, but Padmé was beyond caring.

It was of course far too late to avoid gossip, but Padmé decided that it might work to her advantage. By leaving people to gossip about an affair she could more easily hide the marriage. Mercifully, in the beauty and serenity of the lakeside retreat is was easy to forget that the rest of the world existed. It was the first time she and Anakin had been together without the constant threat that it would also be their last. 

For his part Anakin used all of his meager resources to practice standing up. He would not allow Padmé to marry someone who couldn't stand on his own feet. On the afternoon of their first day in the Lake House Padmé found him collapsed on the terrace by the bedroom, shirtless, in bare feet and shivering. It was a warm day but Anakin was always shivering. 

She flew to him. "How did you get here?"

"I walked," he said through chattering teeth. He was very pleased.

"You're freezing!" she scolded, helping him awkwardly to his feet and trying to support him as he made his painful way back inside. "Why would you let yourself get so cold?" 

"I am going to walk on my own tomorrow."

"You don't have to do this, Anakin. It doesn't matter to me."

"It matters to me." It mattered enormously. The idea of letting her down in any way was much more agonizing than walking.

"Come inside. I'll help you get warm." Padmé spent a lot of time wrapped around Anakin. Her vibrant presence in the Force was often the only thing that could calm his chills.

"That's another good reason to get cold," he said, shaking.

Until that moment Padmé had not allowed herself to have expectations of any kind about Anakin's eventual recovery. She had decided firmly that having him alive was enough. But this definitely was beginning to sound like the old Anakin. She felt an exhilarating surge of hope.

"You fool," she grumbled. "You don't need an excuse for that. And neither do I."  But she took the hint and spent the rest of the day and night draped over or around him to keep him warm while they talked and dozed. Neither one could remember having spent a more peaceful or healing time.

* * * * *

During the night while Padmé slept Anakin got up again and practiced walking unaided until he was satisfied that he could stay on his feet for a reasonable amount of time. Only then did he allow himself to rest.

On the afternoon of the second day Anakin dressed with difficulty in his Jedi robes, made his way painfully to the broad terrace that overlooked the lake, and waited for his bride. 

If he had not already been as weak as an infant the sight of Padmé in her white gown and veil would have had the same effect. He lost all power of speech and his heart, which had still not found its proper rhythm, started to pound alarmingly. He took care to remember to keep breathing.

She came close, making him dizzy with wonder. She was glowing – perhaps from the afternoon sun.

"Ohh…" he moaned softly, his powers of articulation no stronger than his body.

Padmé looked at him seriously.

"Are you all right?  Can you stand?"

"For this?  For you?" he managed to whisper. "Yes, I can stand…"

The wedding ceremony was brief and poignant. It was miraculous, really. A quiet, kind man spoke a few profound words and afterward the universe was changed. Padmé took his hands, one metal and one flesh, and that in that instant he became whole. She kissed him gently and everything that had felt broken was mended.

The Holy Man left quietly and Anakin managed to remain standing. Somehow with Padmé by his side it was easier. 

"Now you really are mine," she said. "I can't believe it."

"I always was," he managed. "I always will be."

"It's different," she said. "Everything seems better now. I'm not afraid of losing you any more."

She could have been speaking directly out of his own heart.

"I still can't believe you want me…this way." Anakin's breathing was growing a bit ragged. She inclined her head closer to him and he tried hard not to wobble. 

"Pay attention, Anakin," she said. "It's you I love. Just you."

"Me," he said, finding it hard to believe. "Just me." Even so, he resolved that she would not have to put up with him like this forever. One way or another, he would get his powers back. He would do it for her. From the moment Padmé had reached out to claim him as her own Anakin had suddenly begun to care what became of him again. He wanted to be worthy of her.

Padmé gently pulled his arm over her shoulder to give him support and began to slowly guide him back inside.

"I…I'm sorry there is not going to be much of a wedding night," he said faintly.

Padmé's smile arose out of a deep private place inside of her. "Oh," she said, "I think we have already had a few of those. Besides, you have to leave in a few hours." 

It took some doing, but they made it into the bedroom where Anakin collapsed gratefully, already exhausted. Padmé watched him with love and longing as she slowly took off her veil and put it aside. Still wearing her wedding dress she lay down beside him, curling up against him so that she could feel his every heartbeat and hear every breath. She was deeply and consciously grateful for each one.

Even though Anakin could scarcely reach out and embrace her he felt her presence in every cell of his body.

"Padmé," he whispered. "Thank you for this gift."

"Thank you for yours," she said softly.

They sank into a blessed and heartfelt silence.

After a while she whispered, "Anakin?"

"Here."

"Anakin, "is this destiny or is it free will?"

He thought for a while.

"I don't really care," he finally decided, "as long as it brought me to you."

They remained there, linked together from head to toe, until it was time for him to go. 

* * * * *

Anakin was true to his promise.

On schedule he boarded the _Naboo Star,_ a spice transporter on its way to the Capital city of the Galaxy. He would arrive in Coruscant in less than two standard days.

He spent the journey entirely by himself. Being so weak he chose to spend most of his time in meditation. The cargo vessel, although large, was for the most part automated and the Captain and two crewmen generally ignored their Jedi passenger and went about their business. Only occasionally did one or the other of them wonder how a person could remain so still for so long. Or need so many blankets.

Oh, well. The Jedi were a world unto themselves. The ordinary workers of the Galaxy rarely had occasion to encounter them.

Anakin may have been by himself but he was anything but alone. 

Under his shirt, over his heart he wore a small but perfect Nubian star stone jewel, one of the rarest gemstones in the Galaxy and unique to Naboo. They were prized not only for their deep night-blue color and transparency, but for the pinpoints of white reflections, like stars, that appeared deep inside if a carefully cut stone was held up to the light.

A star stone was a galaxy unto itself.

It had been a gift from Padmé. But despite its value and rarity, it was nothing compared to the gift of which it was only a token.

The gift of sacred promises. Of a place where he finally belonged. 

Of commitment. Of permanence. Of unconditional welcome.

Of a home and a family and a place to come back to no matter where life took him. No matter where else he might be excluded.

Because of her gift he could go back and face his Masters and take whatever consequences they exacted from him. 

By giving herself to him in marriage, Padmé had set him free to choose his own path. 

THE END


End file.
